The Yankee
by Kaitia
Summary: MARY SUE WARNING! American Sue transfers to Hogwarts. Sarcasm, blatent Sue-ism, and humor abound.
1. Got Yank, Will Travel

_Hello again, folks! Some of you might remember this Mary Sue monstrosity from a year ago. This was my first fanfic attempt in many years and while it was enjoyed by some, it was also sporked by many. I pulled the story after getting some very distressing and disturbing reviews and went about fixing the story. _

_Over several months I read many fanfics and tried, bit by bit, to take away some of the "Sue-isms" of the story. Finally, I gave up, deciding there were just too many brit-picking flaws to fix and went about my life._

_Even nearly a year later, I'm still getting e-mails asking for the unfinished story of "The Yankee" and asking if or when I'll finish. I said that I just couldn't find an end for Reg. To be honest, there was a part of me that was scared of the flamers out there ready to pounce on the next Mary Sue with the sporking of death. I came to realize that while perfection in fanfiction is prefered, there's those of us out there who just do this to vent. I have another fanfic that's a work-in-progress because, yes, I'm going through painstaking details to get this one right._

_"The Yankee" was meant to be nothing more than a fun piece for me to work on. It's horrible. It's offensive to the English and New York natives alike. I beg for anyone living in those areas not to read any further. I beg anyone with no tolerance to blatent Mary Sues to turn back now and avert your eyes. This is Mary Sue at her worst...American, sarcastic, and obnoxious. You have been warned._

_To those who never stopped checking for updates, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I also apologize for bad fic writing. You'd think a teacher would know better. Hey, everyone needs a hobby. Here is "The Yankee"---un-edited, non Brit-picked, and worse than ever._

_Cheers._

_**Disclaimer:** JKR. Not mine. Got it? Oh...**BLATENT MARY SUE WARNING! AGAIN!**_

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**_Chapter One: Got Yank, Will Travel_**

I should've know from the moment Uncle Jack handed me that ticket that this was going to be a _very_ off year for me.

"Platform Nine and three-quarters?" I asked as I looked down at the shiny ticket. I looked back up at Uncle Jack, "You're joking right?"

Uncle Jack sighed and ran a hand through his thick, sandy hair. I'm amazed at his age that he hasn't started balding, "That's what they sent me. Said it's somewhere between platforms nine and ten."

I shook my head as I shoved the ticket in my back jeans pocket. I looked around the station again—there seemed to be a lot of kids running around with owls and trunks. Some of them were accompanied by older folks wearing some of the most ungodly robes I've ever seen and muttering about Muggles. I tightened my grip on my cart. _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

Six months ago I never would've thought I'd be standing at Kings Cross Station waiting for some phantom train. I assumed that I would be catching the subway to the American Academy of Magic on 43rd Street in Manhattan. I assumed that those petty little fights between Aunt Sarah and Uncle Jack were this that—stupid arguments that got out of hand. I assumed that Aunt Sarah would know better than to run off to Mexico with some 24-year-old Spanish painter from SoHo. I assumed that Uncle Jack wouldn't have a mid-life crisis and take that ridiculous job offer in London. I also assumed that I wouldn't go to pieces myself and manage to get suspended from school for "gross misuse of school equipment and magic"—after all, it only took two weeks to get those potion stains off the wall. I thought bright orange color was an improvement. The smell will go away…eventually. In a couple of months. Or years.

But you know what they say about people who "assume"….

So that brings me to my current predicament. Fifteen years old and one of the few, the proud, the _only_ transfer students to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in over a century. Hooray for me. England in general was so weird to me—even if I had been born and raised here until I was five. I was an American now. Scratch that—a New Yorker. The thought of being shipped off to a magic school in the middle of God-knows-where made me feel like some kind of unwanted stepchild being sent to boarding school in Switzerland. I know my mom and dad had gone to school at Hogwarts and, I guess, in a way it's sort of like "coming home". Aunt Sarah had told me once about how my mom had talked about Hogwarts—like another family filled with love, hope, and people who share a common, magical bond. Then again, she could've been talking about her little Spanish fling. Come to think of it, I think she was tanked at the time. Actually, all the time.

I shook my head as Uncle Jack and I sauntered between a large brick arch. Platform nine…platform ten…no platform nine and three-quarters. I bit my lip and tasted some of my cherry lip balm. _God, I hope they sell chap stick, wherever I'm going._

"Well, this is it," Uncle Jack said as he looked around. I think he half expected to see some kind of golden ticket booth smack in the middle of the station.

"Didn't the letter say it was hidden?" I asked. I looked at my watch. 10: 40…only twenty minutes to catch that train.

"They said it was—whoa!" Uncle Jack exclaimed as he had started leaning casually against the brick arch. He wobbled halfway between air and—brick? It looked like his whole body could fall right through, but he got his footing and stood back up. He looked puzzled at the wall for a moment then waved his hand through the wall again, "Think we found it, Reg."

I pushed my cart up along side him and stuck my hand through the wall—half expecting it to catch on fire or something. I pulled it back. _Sneaky, _I thought. I adjusted my backpack straps and turned to Jack, "Yeah, I think it is. I heard some of the kids in Diagon Alley talking about this. Something about the train being on the other side or something." I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. I hadn't been looking forward to this part, "So, do you wanna come?" I reached up and started fussing with my hair. I just had it highlighted for my first day…how cliché. Not that anyone was going to care about the Yank with brown hair and honey highlights.

Uncle Jack looked at the wall for a moment, thinking it over, then shook his head, "Nah, you're a big girl. You can handle it yourself."_ The whole magic thing still kinda weirds him out_, I thought. Uncle Jack was cool about me being a witch and all. Aunt Sarah was the one who had the magic in the family, but even though Jack had accepted it, it still made him a little uneasy at times. That's why when Aunt Sarah left he found himself kind of lost for awhile—a Muggle raising a magical niece-by-marriage. No wonder he was medicated these days.

"Yeah, I guess," I looked back up at him as I fiddled with the edge of my t-shirt.

Uncle Jack lurched forward and wrapped me in an awkward hug. My eyes flew open for a minute in shock, but I got my composure back and hugged him in return.

"I know this isn't the best situation, Reggie," he said as he pulled back and held me at arms length, "But it's one of the best magic schools in the world. _In the world,_ Reg. I mean, we're lucky to get you into a school after—"

"Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah," I said, half-smiling and holding up a hand, "I know, I know. I know the drill. Don't do anything stupid…don't mouth off to the teacher…no using illegal charms and hexes…yadda, yadda, yadda." I rolled my eyes.

Uncle Jack laughed. It'd been a long time sine I heard him do that, "All I can say is I better not get any letter telling me I need to come in for some parent-teacher conferences. Not with how work is going to be now."

"Owls," I said as I reared back with the cart to go through the barrier, "They send owls."

"Huh?" Jack asked in confusion.

"Didn't I tell you? They don't send letters by mail out there—they send them with owls." The of horror and surprise on his face was priceless. I charged through the barrier, "See you at Christmas! Love ya!"

I ran through what seemed like dark fog for a moment before I saw the lights go bright again. _Break on through to the other side,_ I sang in my head. I looked around and whistled in surprise.

I had been expecting something similar to the subway or even that bullet train, but not some old-fashioned, steam-powered, scarlet nightmare. I looked up at the sign that read "Platform 9 ¾". Yep, this was it. I moved out of the way of the barrier in case some other kid came plowing through at any time. As I made my way down the platform I could see the other students—and became painfully aware of how much more toned down I would have to be this year. I watched parents kissing their children goodbye as they loaded their trunks onto the lower compartments and hurried them on the train. I picked a spot in the back of the train and shoved my trunk inside then shoved myself in a train compartment just as quickly. The more I watched families saying goodbye the more alienated I began to feel.

Magic families were so much more connected here. You could tell just by how non-intertwined the real and Magical worlds were over here. When I had pulled out my cell phone in The Leaky Cauldron I saw several people gawking—I thought maybe I'd done something offensive, but when they starting asking if they could see it I realized that most wizards over here used Floos instead of mobile phones. I knew real money and wizard money would be different, but I didn't expect a woman to cry in shock when I accidentally tried to pay for my schoolbooks with a check. _Oops…you don't use Wizard Express Checks over here, do you? My bad._ I had tried to strike up a conversation with some kids in the Quidditch store (at least I know _something _stays the same across the ocean) about a TV show I had seen the other day. They looked at me like I had just grown three heads and said, "You watch Muggle telly? _Real _muggle telly? But that's so boring!"

_I made a mistake,_ I thought as I leaned my forehead against the window. _It's just too different over here._ I can use Muggle transportation without ogling around like a tourist. I can use regular and Wizard currency without making a production. I can watch TV and not be mystified by how it gets its power. _From the electric outlet, freak show!_

I wasn't even aware that the compartment door had opened until I heard his voice, "Hello."

I jumped, clearly not expecting anyone to talk, let alone look, at me. "Oh—er—hi." _Nice and articulate…the American way._

"Is anybody sitting here," he asked. I couldn't help looking at his glasses, which were quite old-fashioned. Completely round and black, but at least he had nice looking green eyes to magnify. His black hair was sticking up everywhere and he looked a little smaller than some of the other guys I'd seen that day. Still, he was smiling and it was the first one I'd seen since I'd left Uncle Jack.

"Oh, no. Go ahead," I said, shifting my pack from the seat across from me.

He sat down and let his robes fall to the side. To my relief he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt like I was. I'd been fighting this rising dread that I was going to be the only student on this train looking like some kind of hobo. Actually, the guy looked like his had been through some serious wear and tear. Like they were too big from him.

He looked at me for a moment and cocked his head, "You're not from around here, are you?"

I shook my head, "No, I'm not." I stuck out my hand, "Regina Bradshaw, fifth year transfer."

He smiled and took my hand, "Harry Potter. I'm a fifth year too."


	2. Traincar Confessions

_**Disclaimer:** JKR. Not Mine. Got it?** BLATENT MARY SUES AWAIT THEE! FLEE NOW!**_

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_**Chapter Two: Traincar Confessions**_

I wrinkled my nose for a minute. _Harry Potter…that name sounded familiar._ I shook it off because it couldn't be familiar. I'd only been in England for two weeks.

Harry leaned back and looked down the corridor of the train, "I think some of my friends might be looking for me."

"Oh," I said as I begin to pick up my bag. _I assume that's the polite, British way of saying, "I hope some better people find me so I don't have to keep making conversation with you." Wanker._

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed and reached out to keep me from changing seats. He laughed, "No, I wasn't asking you to leave. I was just wandering out loud. Do you mind if they sit down here? Most of them are fifth years, too."

_Joy. Classmates._ I roll my eyes and smile at Harry, "You'll have to excuse the newbie here. I'm jumping to please at every turn."

"So where are you from?" he asked. He appeared to stop looking for his friends for the time being.

"New York City," I replied, "Actually, I got into a little bit of trouble using magic and all. Sorta turned an entire wing of the school bright orange." _And smelled like sewage, but you don't need to know that,_ I thought.

Harry laughed, "You'd better watch out for Snape. He's the Potions Master at Hogwarts and he's _brutal_. A slimy git, everyone says so—except of course his own Slytherin House."

"Slyther-what house?" I asked.

"Slytherin House. All students are sorted into houses, see. Well, there's this hat you have to put on when you get there and the hat looks inside your head to see what kind of qualities you have. Say if you're brave and loyal—then you'd probably be put in Gryffindor, like me." He looked down and blushed, "Actually, that probably sounds really egotistical of me."

I laughed, "No, no—it's fine. But it's a hat?"

"Yeah."

"The hat puts you into a House?"

"Yeah."

"Does it talk, too?"

Harry shrugged, "Yeah. Sometimes you just hear it in your head, but sometimes he talks out loud."

_Talking hats and a Nazi Potions teacher. Smashing._ "Actually, I was only joking, but at least if I start hearing voices it won't be all me." I looked out the window and realized that the station was gone. I hadn't even felt the train move because I'd been so wrapped up in talking to Harry.

"So where is this Hogwarts?" I asked.

Harry looked out the window, "You know, I don't really know. It's somewhere near the mountains, but it looks like some decrepit old castle to most Muggles so they don't go near it. What was your school like?"

"It looked like an old apartment building," I explained, "but it was _huge_. Students from all over the States came in to go to school there."

"How did you keep the Muggles away?" Harry asked.

"We threw some winos on the front stoop and put a charm around the building to smell like urine," I said casually. I slapped a hand over my mouth._ You and your stupid need to be sarcastic and cynical all the time._ I fully expected Harry to look at me with disgust, but I was surprised when he started howling with laughter.

"You're kidding!" he shouted. He was practically crying he was laughing so hard.

I joined in now, relieved that my humor hadn't sent him running from the car, "Yeah, I am, actually. But it sounds so much more amusing than the real thing. The normal "I-have-another-pressing-engagement" charm."

Harry wiped a tear from his eye and smiled at me again, "So what brings you to Hogwarts?"

_Ah, I'd rehearsed for that one._ "Well, my uncle took a job in London a few weeks ago. So happened to coincide with my little potion fiasco so we decided to transfer me at the start of the year rather than midway through."

"You live with your uncle?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Used to live with my aunt, too, until she…" How to put it in delicate terms? _Drank her self half-blind until she ran off with a bum painter who could barely speak English_, "She left us. My mom and dad went to Hogwarts a long time ago, thought, but I never knew them. They died when I was five. Car crash. Drunk driver."

Harry looked at me with something of familiarity that I couldn't understand. "My parents died when I was one." he said quietly, "I went to live with my aunt and uncle as well. My cousin too…he's a great big prat, though."

_Prat…slang for…something?_ I filed it away in my list of new British slam words. For some reason I found myself looking at his forehead and noticed a scar near his hairline. _That's weird…it looks like a lightning bolt._

"How did you get that?" I asked, nodding towards his head.

Harry reached up and pressed his fingers against it. His eyes widened in surprised, "I—er—I mean…" He lowered his hand and shook his head, "Sorry, I—"

I held up my hand to stop him, "No, it's okay. I shouldn't have asked—that was rude. You probably have people staring at it all the time. Doesn't help having some complete stranger pointing at you like you're some exhibit in a zoo." I trail off, well aware that by this point I'm babbling.

He smiled again, "No, it's not that! It's just…I'm used to people staring, but most of the time they know the story behind it." He shrugged and seemed to turn slightly red, "I mean…that's why they call me 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'."

It suddenly dawned on me why he sounded so familiar. _The-Boy-Who-Lived_. Every witch and wizard in the world knew about the War in England during the 1970's and how Lord Voldemort was overthrown by a baby. _Harry Potter_. Now it was my turn to play it cool and look confused, "You lived because you have a scar on your head?" The last thing I wanted to come off as was a drooling fangirl.

"Yes…no…" he looked kind of flustered as he tried to find the words to explain, "It's sort of a long story." He turned to the window again. I could take a hint, but I couldn't deny that this Harry kid was sort of interesting in a way—with or without the tragic past. He seemed like the quiet type, but I could be wrong.

We both looked out the window for a few moments in silence before the compartment door opened again. There in the doorway stood two other kids—one rather gangly with flaming red hair; the other average with bushy brown hair.

"Hey, Harry," said the red head, "Didn't see you out at the station. Mum was worried that your uncle might not 've dropped you off." He plopped down next to me with out looking.

Bushy took a seat next to Harry. At least she had the decency to acknowledge my presence, "Hello," she said, extending a hand, "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Reggie Bradshaw," I said, shaking her hand in return. The red head turned to me with a look of surprise on his face.

" You're not from around here are you?" he said.

"Is it that obvious?" I said, slapping on my Southern drawl. I smiled, "Fifth year transfer from the American Academy of Magic. Who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," he tilted his head in acknowledgement, "So what brings you to Hogwarts, then?"

I turn and see that Harry is grinning at me. "I think Potions is going to be interesting this year if Reggie has anything to do with it," Harry said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

Harry and I quickly got them caught up on our conversation. Ron stifled a laugh while Hermione just shook her head, "You'd better be careful around Snape. He'll dock points from our house just for breathing funny in his class. I'm serious, Ron!"

Ron had stopped laughing, "Did you remember what kind of potion that was? Gawh! That would be something to see down in the dungeon, wouldn't it? Malfoy covered in orange goo for weeks on end!"

"Who's Malfoy?" I asked, relishing in the newfound kinship. The second I asked that question they all clammed up._ Oops._

"A Slytherin. Evil little ferret. That's all you need to know," said Hermione with a small smirk, "Just stay far away from him while you're here and you'll be fine."

_Ah, a class bully. I was always up for a challenge._ I must have had my scheming face on because Harry was giving me some sort of conspirator look. _Maybe this year won't be so bad,_ I thought. I always enjoyed a good bully baiting—especially when they had it coming. And sometimes when they didn't—even then it could be quite amusing. I smiled to myself thinking about Brad Foster hanging upside down by a curse I had place on him to keep him hovering over a toilet in seventh grade. He had said my hair looked stupid when it was all wet and frizzy. His didn't look much better after an hour in the toilet.

We spent most of the trip going back and forth between the differences between British and American wizarding. Our schools, our customs, our cultures—I had a feeling this would be a familiar topic for this year. They were all in Gryffindor and I suddenly found myself thinking back to my mom and dad. I remember seeing a picture of them a long time ago—both wearing black robes with a lion emblazoned near the left shoulder. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all had the same lion. _Will I get put into Griffindor, _I wondered? It'd be nice to have someone I already knew in my classes. Besides, these three had already taken my sarcastic banter and not looked at me as some bitter American chick with a grudge from the Revolution. It felt good to joke around with people my own age—lord knows I hadn't done that in awhile.

It was dark by the time the train finally stopped and we all piled out of the train. Harry told me it was all right to leave the bags because they would be brought up to the castle. This was the highlight of the night for me. Seeing an honest-to-god Wizard castle—not the stained building I'd left back in New York.

"Come on, Reggie," Ron said as he and the others stepped into a black carriage.

"What…how…" I pointed at the front of the cart confused. There were no horses.

"They're thestrals," Hermione explained, "They'll pull the cart, but you can't see them. Come on, get in! We're leaving!"

I jumped into the carriage just as it began to move. My heart was beating so fast I was sure everyone else could hear it. I tried to keep my hands steady, but I always had the habit of fiddling with my wand like a baton whenever I got nervous. As I wound it through my fingers mindlessly, Harry reached forward and stopped the wand.

"Relax," he said as the carriage slowly came to a halt, "Just breathe! You'll be fine." They began to clamor out of the carriage, one at a time.

Shoving my wand back in my belt, I took a deep breath and nodded. _The moment of truth,_ I thought as I stepped onto the cobblestone walkway. I looked up. If my jaw could've hit the stones it would've. The castle was freaking huge—winding towers and lights seemed to spring up from the very ground around the castle. The stones themselves seemed so polished and smooth. Statues and gargoyles lined the outer doorways that were now overflowing with students in black robes. I repositioned my jaw and gulped as I took my first steps under the giant archway.

_Welcome to Hogwarts, Yank._


	3. Hats Off

_**Disclaimer: **JKR. Not Mine. Got it?** BEWARE THE MARY SUE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**_

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_**Chapter Three: Hats Off**_

I should've given myself whiplash straining around so much to see everything. I'd seen the wizard paintings and photos before—the ones that moved—but never so many at one time. It's like a freaking wizard art museum. The sheer velocity of it all was so overwhelming that I almost screamed when I looked up and saw staircases moving._ Moving!_ Harry and his friends had moved up towards the front, but I was a little hesitant to follow. If I didn't get into their "house thingie" I probably wouldn't be seeing much of them anyways. _No sense in getting my hopes up, _I thought.

As we approached these enormous wooden doors they swung open to reveal this enormous hall. Four long tables filled the hallway with different colored banners hanging over each one. _Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Gryffindor,_ I read them to myself. I kept looking up and saw that the ceiling wasn't even there—like it was the open sky filled with stars that occasionally shot off into the distance._ So that's what a night sky is supposed to look like,_ I thought sarcastically, thinking about the Manhattan skyline. In the city, you can usually see two stars on a clear night. If you're lucky, but one of them is probably an airplane.

I kept walking forward and didn't realize that everyone else had already sat down until I was standing at the front of the hall. All the teachers were sitting at a long wooden table at the head of the hall—each one more odd looking than the next. Especially the dude in black with the hooked nose that looked like a vampire.

"Miss Bradshaw," a voice pulled me out of my stupor. I looked up and saw an older looking woman in a green dress looking down at me. Her hair was dark brown and gray and pulled back in a tight bun. Judging by the harsh look on her face and the way she stared at me through those spectacles I thought she might have been the potion nazi I was so not looking forward to, "I'm Professor McGonagall," she said.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Suddenly, I was painfully aware of how isolated I was standing in front of everybody. I glanced over my shoulder to see what was going on—everyone was whispering and looking up at me. Sort of like those dreams where you're giving a speech in class and look down to realize you're stark naked. Kinda like that.

"I'm the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts," she continued, "Now, I assume one of your classmates has already told you about the Sorting process." I nodded, "Good. Now, we'll sort the first years before we sort you so why don't you simply stand over here to one side…" she hustled me over to the left side of the table and near the Gryffindors. I could see Harry a ways down smiling and giving me the 'thumbs up' sign. Hermione was mouthing to me _"You'll be fine"_. Ron was completely oblivious to anything going on except trying to fasten his robes. I sighed.

Before I could dwell much longer on my own misery, the doors to the Great Hall swung open and Professor McGonagall swept down the middle of the room with a line of children in black robes quivering behind her. _So those are the first years,_ I thought. McGonagall strode up to what looked like a bar stool at the front that held a dusty, old pointed hat. Adjusting her spectacles, she unrolled the parchment in her hand and cleared her throat.

"Andrews, Jane!"

A little blonde girl came forward. I thought she was going to pass out she was so white. She crawled up into the chair and McGonagall placed the hat on top of the girl's head. I squinted to get a better look at the had—if I didn't know any better it looked like the hat was muttering to itself. Suddenly, the hat reared back and took in a deep breath._ Wait a minute—the hat breathed!_

"Ravenclaw!" the hat shouted.

My conversation with Harry earlier made sense. The hat goes on the head…it mutters something under its breath…then yells out the house you go into. Then you go and join the other people in your house who cheer as you take your place at the table. Hmmm…seems simple enough. I was so wrapped up in my own brain, as usual, that I had missed all of the first years being placed. McGonagall rolled up the parchment and held up a hand for attention.

"Students, I would like to introduce our newest member to Hogwarts—"

_Oh. Sweet. Jesus._

"Miss Regina Bradshaw is joining us from the American Academy of Magic from the United States--"

_Come one, come all! For just five Knuts you too can see the amazing Magical Yank! She sings, she dances, she sets cats on fire in Transfiguration—_

"—She will be joining our fifth years, but I expect us all to welcome her into Hogwarts—"

_How exactly do you get "welcomed" to Hogwarts? Do they have enchanted lockers to be shoved into?_

"Miss Bradshaw, if you please," McGonagall motioned for me to take my place on the stool. I fought the urge to close my eyes in panic as she place the hat on my head.

_Ah, another Bradshaw…_

_ACK! Don't do that!_

_Hmmm…interesting…another difficult placement…_

_Do you always pry into people's heads? Just do your hat thing and let me eat!_

_Slytherin seems a good match for you—cunning…resourcefulness…_

_Are you kidding me! Did you see those guys? I heard that Malfoy kid._

_But there are other traits here…loyalty…bravery…integrity…and what's this about an orange goo you keep bringing up?_

_Don't ask…_

_Hmm. You seem very torn between the two houses—traits from each…but where to put you..._

_Can I make a request?_

_Certainly._

_Gryffindor._

_And why is that?_

_Well…my parents were in that house, I think. And I've already met some kids in that house that I haven't completely scared off…and…_

_Yes?_

_I think if you put me in the same house as that Malfoy kid I'll be expelled in a week._

_Hmm. Fair enough…if you're sure…_

_Yes._

_Quite sure._

_Just do it, hat boy!_

"Gryffindor!"

A cheer went up from the Gryffindor table as McGonagall lifted my hat and I practically fell out of the chair. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all clapping, but Harry was grinning most of all. He motioned for me to come down to sit with them.

"Congrats, Reggie!" Harry said.

"You took an awfully long time with the had," Hermione said, "What happened?"

"It wanted to put me in another house," I said, reaching for a drumstick that had just materialized out of thin air. I'd reached the point where I realized it was pointless to keep asking questions. I was falling for the tourist syndrome—all I needed now was a map and a camera around my neck. So the food came out of nowhere—that was the least of my worries for that day.

"What was the other house?" Ron asked with his mouth full of potatoes.

"Slytherin," I replied.

All three of them looked at me in shock. I stopped with a fork full of corn halfway to my mouth, "Was that a bad thing?" I said.

"It wanted to put you in Slytherin?" Harry asked. He gave me that familiar look again. It was starting to creep me out.

"It was going on about me having traits for both houses, but I asked to be put in Gryffindor anyways."

Now Ron and Hermione were looking at each other questioningly. They looked back at Harry. I could tell I was out of the loop so I made a production of clearing my throat and tried to salvage what friendship I'd already made, "Look, it probably had to do with some of the trouble I got into back home. I was sneaky…especially when it came to getting back at someone. Nothing serious—just harmless little pranks. But the hat said I was loyal and brave—even though I don't feel it just now, brave I mean—but…" I gulped. _You're babbling again,_ "I just met you guys and thought Gryffindor seemed like a cool enough place to be at so…" I trailed off.

That seemed to relieve some of their tension. They settled back into their chairs and went about eating. Harry reached for a roll as he tried to explain, "The same thing happened to me when I was a first year. I just thought it was a little unusual, is all." He gave me a half smile, "Don't worry about it, though. I'm glad you got in Gryffindor—you seem pretty cool, yourself."

_Whew, dodged that bullet._ I smiled back at him, half afraid I was practically beaming, "Thanks." The four of us spent the meal talking about classes—where I'd be going, who the teachers were, what the teachers were like…all the things I'd been dying to know since I'd gotten that owl nearly a month ago. It seemed from my class schedule that I'd be in every class with Hermione, Harry, or Ron. The tightness in my chest subsided somewhat when they all offered to help me along until I got settled in. After about an hour, Ron and Hermione got up to leave—something about helping the first years because they were Prefects. Whatever the heck those are. Harry offered to show me to the Gryffindor tower.

"It's a lot different from your home isn't it?" Harry asked as we climbed one of the staircases.

"That's the understatement of the year," I scoffed with a grin.

Harry shrugged, "You'll get used to it. And like we said, we'd all be there to help you when you need it. So will everyone else in Gryffindor."

I thought back on dinner. Several students had come up to introduce themselves and they all seemed nice enough. Lots of questions, though. You'd think they'd never seen an American before. I had been good and kept my cynical nature to myself…I had at least three people who could stand me. I didn't want to press my luck on the first night. First impressions suck like that.

"Here we are," Harry said. I looked up and saw an enormous woman standing in a painting.

"Password?" the painting asked.

"_Irite Edraia_," Harry replied.

The painting swung open and we stepped inside. The room itself seemed old fashioned in a way. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace and several cushy leather chairs sprawled out over the room. A few large round tables were placed in the corners where several students seemed to be milling around. It was cozy and didn't feel stifling at all—like a giant study or something.

"This is the common room," Harry explained. This is where you'll probably do most of your homework. Sometimes it's nice to just hang out by the fire and talk with friends, too." It seemed like a small smile pulled at him.

I nodded and looked around. There were two winding staircases at the back of the room. "Those go up to the rooms, I assume?"

"Yeah," he replied. He stretched, "Well, it's getting kind of late. You've got Transfiguration first thing tomorrow, right?"

I nodded again. My mind began swimming—either from exhaustion or over-stimulation, I couldn't tell which. "Yeah, first thing."

"Great! How 'bout I meet you down here and we'll catch breakfast in the morning? Sound good?"

"Sure," I said, giving a shrug. Inside, I was fighting the urge to do a happy dance right then and there. _I got a friend…I got a friend…I got a friend...hey, hey, hey, hey!_

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Reggie!" And with that, Harry turned and headed up the winding staircase to the right.

I couldn't help but stand there almost dumbstruck for a minute. All the events from the past twenty-four hours seemed to be rushing back at me. At first it seemed like the world had been turned upside down—the way things were so backwards over here. Talking hats, invisible horses, food out of air, moving staircases—I was used to magic, but not so concentrated before. Back home, the Academy was magical enough all right, but we had ways of fusing Muggle means with magic. Enchanted lockers that held everything (including fourteen freshmen), in trays that magicked mail instead of sending it by owl…but here it was like anything Muggle was a disease. In America, fusing magic with non-magic was all part of the adjustment process for when you left school and went out into the world—you have to deal with things like mass transportation, bills, and technology. Maybe it was a culture thing—it certainly seemed easier over here to forget there even was a Muggle world somewhere out there.

I sighed as I made my way to the stairwell to climb up to bed. Maybe it had more to do with being raised by Muggles myself. All I knew was that tomorrow was going to be one of the most interesting days of my life.


	4. Prove This

_**Disclaimer:** JKR. Not Mine. Got it?** AVERT YOUR EYES FROM THE HORROR THAT IS THE MARY SUE!**_

* * *

**Chapter Four: Prove This**

To say that I had a rough night would be kind. By the time I woke up the next morning it felt like the entire cast of 'Riverdance' was doing a number on my skull. All night I tossed and turned thinking about classes. I dreamt that I made a Potion that blew up the school and turned Professor McGonagall into a half-lion, half-woman creature that chased me all the way to Hogwarts Express. Needless to say, when I met Harry downstairs for breakfast in the morning, I wasn't exactly up to snuff.

"You don't look so good," Harry said. He was wearing a white shirt with black slacks and a crimson and gold tie. I swear I will never get used to those damn robes.

"Really?" I said, stifling a yawn, "I thought I looked like shit, but 'not so good' sounds better to me."

Harry gave a little laugh, "At least you still have a sense of humor about it."

By the time we got down to the Great Hall I was personality free—at least as far as my appearance went. Ron and Hermione were already down there—Hermione munching on some toast as she poured over an enormous book; Ron flipping through the pages of _The Daily Prophet_. They perked up as Harry and I came over.

"Hey, Harry. Hey, Reggie," Ron said as we flopped down.

"Hey, Ron," I yawned again as I reached for a bagel, "Please tell me that getting up this early is only for the first day."

Hermione scoffed, "'Afraid not. I think you'll find classes a tad more vigorous here than in America."

I raised an eyebrow. Was she encouraging me or insulting me? With Hermione, I was finding it hard to tell. I could tell she was incredibly smart just from the few hours I'd spent with her. She had one of those photographic memories I'd always hoped for so I could barely crack a book and still stay at the head of the class. True, she didn't exactly have any tact when it came to flaunting her brains, but she seemed to have good intentions. She may be a star here, but she would've ended up on the business end of a butt-whoopin' back home. Still, I liked her for no other reason than she seemed to like my dark humor and was proving helpful getting around my first day.

"What time did your classes start, Reg?" Harry asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. I motioned for him to pass it along.

"We started about nine," I said. Ron's eyes looked like they would bug out of his head, "but we got out around four. It's not like a big change because I still had to get up early enough to catch the subway to get down to the school."

"I'd give anything for a later day," Ron muttered, "Seven am classes are brutal."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Just wait until Quidditch practice starts up," he said. Ron moaned, "Did you play?"

"A little," I confessed, "I was a Beater for awhile, but I ended up having to quit the team because of…um…"

"What?" Hermione asked as she cocked her head.

" Let's call them strategic differences," I said. I immediately shifted glances to my schedule in front of me. My old captain, Alicia Sollowski, had a tendency of screaming and belittling everyone on the team so they would get out of her way so she could be the Quidditch star. Huge ego. Nothing I thought a swift Bludger to the head wouldn't cure. Didn't go over so well for the rest of the team—or the principal for that matter.

Harry shot me another questioning look. I raised my eyebrow as if to say, _Don't ask._ He just smiled and shook his head, seeming to understand. He glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened.

"Shoot, we've gotta go! See ya, Ron! Hermione!" Harry shouted as he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the hall.

Harry and I wound our way through countless hallways so fast I didn't have a chance to catch my bearings. _It'll take me months to get used to this place,_ I thought despairingly. I could picture myself months from now camped out down some god-forsaken hallway using my robe as a tent and burning my textbooks to keep warm. I was thinking about which one of my books would burn the longest when we finally turned into a classroom.

Harry pulled me into a seat near the middle, "This is Professor McGonagall's class. She's tough…real tough. But she's fair. She's the head of Gryffindor house."

"What was the last thing you worked on last year?" I asked, taking out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Frogs into a vase," he replied, "I finally got it on the exam. What did you do?"

I had a flashback of Transfiguration Three back at the Academy. Our last task had been turning cats into candles. Turning the cat into the candle wasn't the problem—the problem was turning it back. Flaming cats are a real bitch to catch.

"Cats into candles," I said, "But mine didn't turn out so well. I set mine on fire."

Harry's eyes went wide and looked like he was about to explode with laughter when Professor McGonagall took her place at the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.

"Welcome, class, to another year in Transfiguration. At the end of last term we began changing small animals into simple objects such as jars and boxes. This year, we shall focus on larger animals to complex objects…"

_Hmmm. I wonder if I could turn a cat into a six-disk stereo…_

"Miss Bradshaw?" McGonagall asked.

I jumped, "Yes, professor?"

She looked down, sternly at me, "For today, if you wish, you may observe more than participate. I would like for you to make an effort, but I realize that some of these spells might be slightly advanced from where you left off."

_Woman, are you challenging me? _I nodded, but decided right then and there that I was going to do whatever she asked. _Advanced my arse. Who does she think she is?_

"Now," she said, waving her wand. Caged appeared on all the desks containing rats. There were several choruses of 'yuck' going around the room. These were babies compared to the horse sized ones I'd seen back home. _What better way to start off the new year than with a reminder of home,_ I thought sarcastically.

"Today we will be turning your rats into shoes like so," She produced a rat from her desk and tapped it three times before it quivered a little bit and turned into a boot, "Now, I'll be looking for the complexity of the shoe. Laces, clasps, designs, padding inside the shoe—so please try to concentrate." She motioned for the class to begin.

I looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow. He just shrugged and began his attempts. I looked back at my rat. _What are you looking at,_ I thought. I scowled at it as it wriggled its nose at me. _Too complex, huh? I'll show you._ I rolled up my sleeves and pointed my wand at it. I conjured up a picture of a tennis shoe in my head—a running shoe I'd seen in a window back in London. I held my breath and tapped the rat three times. It seemed to jump for a moment then almost convulse. When it stopped moving I thought for sure I'd killed it—then it slowly morphed into a white tennis shoe. With whiskers and a tail. I sighed, propped head on my right hand. This was going to be a long year.

Potions was next and, thankfully, all three of them were in this class, too. I'd heard nothing but horror stories about this man and, quite frankly, I felt like hurling. When I heard the doors open with a bang as he glided into the room I knew that all the rumors had been true. He was a sallow looking man—like he hadn't seen the sun…ever. His black hair was greasy and I could've sworn his eyes were as black as his head. He was dressed in all black, too—head to toe. His eyes narrowed on me as he took the front of the class. I tried to gulp quietly, but I had a feeling everyone heard it.

"Well, well," he droned coolly, "Our new American cousin come to show us how well Potions are taught overseas."

I could see where this was going. "Tell me, Miss Bradshaw, what would I get if I combined plyberry essence and redgrass?"

I sat up straight in my chair. Transfigurations might not be my forte, but Potions was another matter. I looked him straight on, praying my eyes looked as knowing as I hoped they would, "It would produce a yellowish mixture known as Scar Juice used for treating minor cuts and scrapes." _Boo-yah!_

His eyes narrowed into tiny slits. He obviously hadn't been expecting an answer, "Very well—what is the difference between helbane and a polloak?"

"Helbane is bark from a Helbantas tree, which is usually found in the southern regions of the Brazilian rainforests. Polloak is a fleshy, orange plant usually found in the western region of India."

Now he was sneering. I could hear Hermione take a sharp breath behind me. _So I answered his questions! He wanted to see if he could make an ass out of me and he couldn't. Score one for the Yank! USA! USA!_

His lips curled up in what I assumed to be some sort of smirk, "The polloak is found in the _eastern_ region of India. Lucky for us we won't be sending you out looking for any or else we might be here all year. Though, I can't imagine your knowledge of plants and potions to be that comprehensive. You being American and all—"

I knew my face was turning bright red even before I felt Harry's hand over mine, "Don't," he whispered, "He's just trying to get a rise. Just ignore him."

Snape continued droning on, "Americans and their pitiful excuses for Potion Laboratories. It's amazing you people can tell the difference between crushed bicorn and aspirin…"

By this point, I was flat out glaring at the man. _What the hell did I do!_ There's belittling and then there's full-blown, go-for-the-jugular, trampling of the self-esteem. There was no reason for this.

"Professor, if you'd like to discuss the shortcomings of American Potions studies can I suggest we do it after class?" I asked. There were sharp intakes of breath all around the room. My eyes darted next to me where Harry looked like he was wincing. I suddenly remembered the part about Snape taking off points from Gryffindor for any little indiscretion.

_Crap._

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your useless herbology knowledge and another ten points for your tongue." Snape barked, "Clearly you never learned the basic points of proper classroom etiquette when addressing your professors." He turned to his desk.

I wasn't about to take this lying down, "Clearly, I don't have the patience to deal with people blatantly insulting American educational standards." I could swear I heard Ron whimpering behind me. Harry was closing his eyes at this point.

Snape spun on me again. _Hey, he does have color in his face—bright red._ "Another ten points! By all means, Miss Bradshaw, do continue. I'm sure the rest of your classmates are eager to watch you sink your house to the bottom running for the House Cup before the year has even begun."

I clamped my jaw so tight I thought my back molars would shatter. We kept our gazes locked for what seemed forever before he turned back to the chalkboard. With a wave of his wand a potion recipe appeared on the board and he sat at his desk, burying himself in paperwork. _Oh, he is sooo on my hit list for this year,_ I seethed. For a moment I lowered my head to my desk giving myself a light bang on the forehead for not keeping myself in line. In my right ear I could hear snickering. I turned to the side and saw Draco Malfoy snickering with his two nitwit companions. He looked over at me and sneered as he laughed. I glared at him and finally hoisted my head up to look at the potion on the board. At least it was something I had done before. I smirked to myself as I began dropping ingredients into my heated cauldron.

If Snape and Malfoy wanted a war this year they were going to get one


	5. And Now For The Main Event

**_Warning: ALL FLEE IN FEAR OF THEHORRID MARY SUE! FLEE I TELL YOU!_**

_**Disclaimer:** _JKR. Not mine. Got it?

* * *

**_Chapter Five: And Now For The Main Event_**

"I can't believe you mouthed off to Snape! In his own class!" Ron was dumbstruck as we all left Potions that morning and headed for lunch.

"I can't believe it either," I shrugged, "But come on. Getting on my case just because I'm American? I'm not even really that American—I was born in England just like all of you!"

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Born in London, raised in New York. I'm the best of all worlds," I grinned.

Truth was, I had no idea how I'd made it out of double Potions alive. I felt horrible for losing thirty points on my first day—which I assumed was a record loss. It didn't help having Malfoy snickering behind me the entire class either, but Harry encouraged me by saying he'd probably get tired of mocking me and move back to him. Joy.

"It could've been worse," Harry shrugged as we strode into the Great Hall.

"Really?" I said, flopping down near a pile of sandwiches. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow, "Enlighten me, oh Buddha. How could it possibly be worse?"

"Well," Harry began, rolling his eyes, "He could've jinxed your broom, tried to have you expelled, attempt to kill your godfather to fulfill some personal vendetta…but that's just what he's tried to do to me."

My eyes were bugging out of my head, "How does a psycho like that get in a position that lets him near any life forms at all? Charles Manson could teach Potions with more compassion!"

"Well, he didn't actually jinx my broom, "Harry admitted.

I shook my head. "Forget it. Hey, Hermione pass me the salad."

Thankfully, the gang tried to get my mind off my first day shortcomings by filling me in on some stories of their own. My mind went into overload somewhere between the three-headed dog, Voldemort, and the werewolf teacher. _What the hell kind of school is this?_ I seriously thought they were pulling my leg, but the more they went on about magical stones, a giant snake, and the escaped convict godfather the more I realized they must have been telling the truth. _No one could come up with that much BS,_ I thought,_ except television evangelists. _How the three of them could even be there stuffing their faces with me was beyond my comprehension. I found myself wondering if I would play any part in their adventures this year.

"Nice class today, eh, Bradshaw?" someone asked icily from behind us. I spun around to find myself face to face with Malfoy—flocked by his cronies again.

"Invigorating actually," I said sarcastically.

"Back off, Malfoy," Harry said, standing up. I could see his fists beginning to clench, but I wasn't about to let him start getting in a fight over me. I reached over and grabbed his robe while Hermione and Ron glared on.

"I don't know which is worse about this place. The mudbloods or the bloody Americans!" Malfoy laughed.

Now I was on my feet, "Big talk for someone flanked by his own personal bodyguard." My face was flaming and my fists were clenched so tight I could feel them go white, "Care to see some Yankee pride jammed down your throat?"

"Fight with you?" Malfoy mused. His voice sounded like oil, "Like a common Muggle? This is a _real_ magic school—not the flea-ridden box you have the audacity to call a school in America. We have wizard duels, not fist fights, but I suspect no one where you come from knows how to have a proper duel—"

"Reggie don't!" Hermione was on her feet and straining over the table to hold back my robes. The platter of sandwiches went clattering to the floor. Now Ron was flanking Harry's left.

"That's what separates a real man from a coward! What's wrong, Malfoy? Afraid to take on a girl without your precious little magic stick?" I screamed, brandishing a fist.

Now it was Malfoy's turn to be held back. All eyes in the Great Hall were locked on all of us—waiting to see which one would strike first. It didn't even occur to anyone that there were, for once, no teachers in the hall. I felt an adrenaline rush that I hadn't felt in a real long time. Like I said before, I like giving it to bullies when they have it coming—and Malfoy definitely had it coming.

"Dirty Yank!"

"Slimy Brit!"

"Sod off!"

"Bite me, Snake boy!"

At that point all grips were lost and I can only summarize the melee that ensued. I do recall several platters being used as shields and an ungodly amount of kicking and hair pulling. I am happy to say that I did land two well-guided punches to Malfoy's right eye and jaw. Unfortunately, Crabbe reciprocated on Harry while a few more Slytherins tried to work Ron's stomach. Hermione was quite the tiger jumping on the back of Pansy Parkinson and yanking her hair back while riding her across the isle. In the background I could hear the screaming of students as they cheered us on. It was invigorating—like being back in the hallways at home. I should've been paying more attention to the voices dimming down otherwise I would've heard them coming.

"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE!"

We all froze mid punch and looked around in confusion. McGonagall and Snape were standing over our little pile of fun. I had one hand on Malfoy's robe while winding back for another punch—he had a fistful of my hair and a hand around my throat. Harry was sitting on top of Goyle while Ron had been in Crabbe's headlock. Hermione and Pansy were just a tangle of hair and limbs, but had finally ceased clawing each other. McGonagall was surveying our damage, but Snape had his eyes locked on just one person. Me.

"Do you care to explain yourself, Miss Bradshaw?" He hissed. It was amazing he could still see me through those two slits on his head.

"I—I—I—" I stammered. As I felt blood trickling down my lip I saw my life flash before my eyes. It ended with me in a dungeon receiving Chinese water torture from Snape personally. I looked around at everyone who was finally coming to realize what had just happened. Harry's left eye had already begun to swell, Ron's right cheek was bruising, and Hermione was using a napkin to cover up the claw marks on her face. The other Slytherins didn't look much better nursing similar wounds.

_Now I know what they mean by "Bloody hell"…_

"It wasn't all her fault," a voice quipped up. We all turned around to see Jane Andrews, the little Ravenclaw girl, shaking as she approached the table.

"What do you mean, Miss Andrews?" McGonagall snapped. If her lips went any tighter I swore they would pinch right off her face.

"Malfoy was making fun of her being American and all and they were shouting and—and—and—" she looked about ready to pass out, "and then they all started at once."

Snape and McGonagall turned back to us. We had finally managed to detangle ourselves from each other and join our houses, but still found time to glare menacingly at one another. Snape was still glaring at me, but had quickly moved onto Harry. Fortunately, McGonagall was doing her part to intimidate the Slytherins. I looked over at Harry who gave me the faintest smile. At least he wasn't missing any teeth.

"All of you will have ten points docked from your houses. Slytherins will receive detentions with me—Gryffindors with Professor Snape." McGonagall snapped.

"But, Professor—" I began to approach her.

"Miss Bradshaw, I understand that it is your first day. I understand that this is probably not _all_ your doing, but I know you definitely had a hand in it. I think it would be very wise if for once today you would shut your mouth!" McGonagall cried. There were actually stray hairs flying out that made her look even more intimidating like Medusa.

I gulped, "Yes, ma'am."

As McGonagall turned to leave the Slytherins turned back to their tables. Snape, however, found it amusing to hover over us and sneer for a few moments. The four of us began reaching for our bags, no longer hungry, when Snape finally spoke up.

"The four of you will meet me in the Potions classroom tonight at nine o'clock. I suggest you wear something suitable for very harsh manual labor," and with a final glare he turned and glided out of the hall.

We stood there dumbstruck for a few minutes. I looked at the three of them—each nursing different wounds. I thought about the past twenty-four hours and the absolute absurdity of events that had occurred. I thought about how Malfoy had looked terrified when I had lunged at him. I thought about what I had told the hat about getting myself expelled. Then I started to laugh. At first it was just giggling, but as I looked at the shocked look on the rest of them I started flat out laughing. Then Harry joined in, pointing at my own shiner on my left eye. Then Ron and Hermione started snickering at the whole situation. Pretty soon, the four of us were howling and clutching our sides as we made our way from the Great Hall and toward our next classes. It was the first time anyone at Hogwarts could remember a fight without using a wand. Some student ambassador I was turning out to be.

As we made our way out of the castle and down towards the forest one fact stood clear out in our minds. Detention was going to be a real pain in the arse.


	6. Dear Uncle Jack

**_Warning: Bad Sue! Bad Sue! You go to Hell...you go to Hell and you die!_**

**_Disclaimer:_** JKR. Not mine. Got it?

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**_Chapter Six: Dear Uncle Jack_**

_Dear Uncle Jack,_

_Greetings from Oz! It's been three weeks and this is the first chance I've had to write a letter. Things have been **crazy**—in the good and bad sense. And no, I haven't been expelled yet._

First of all, you'll be glad to know that I've found me some friends. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger—all super cool in their own right. Harry's got a lot of baggage as far as his life is concerned, but he's still one of the nicest people I've met here. Apparently, the three of them have gotten into quite a few situations—if you've still been getting The Daily Prophet I'm sure you've read about him. 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' or some crap like that. They've actually faced off with some pretty nasty stuff, but you'll be happy to know if I come across a three-headed dog, a mountain troll, a Basilisk (giant snake), werewolves, escaped convicts, or jinxed brooms I'll have some back up. Relax, Uncle Jack…breathe. Everything here is fine. Mostly.

_I got into Gryffindor just like my mom and dad. I think they'd be pretty proud. Everyone in my house is pretty cool—oh, yeah they have houses that you get sorted into. They put this old hat on my head and the hat tells you what house you'll be in. That's right, a talking hat. So it wanted to put me in Slytherin, which is full of a bunch of demented people, but it put me in Gryffindor instead. I wouldn't have lasted in Slytherin because of this kid named Malfoy—the biggest snot in the whole school. I guess he comes from this f-ed up family that thinks only all magic kids should get to go to Hogwarts. What a git. Git is my favorite new British slam word. I still don't know what it means, but everyone here is using it._

_So my first week was a little shaky. I know that Professor McGonagall wrote to you about the "situation" in the dining hall. I assure you the little punk had it coming. And it's not like I was the only one fighting, either—lots of us were. But you probably don't care about that. Anyways, we got detention with the Potion professor, Snape. This guy makes Hannibal Lecter look like the Happy Chef. Evil. Literally…but I'll explain that later. Anyways, he doesn't really like me anyways and you can probably guess why. Two words: MY MOUTH. I'm sorry, but he was really getting on my case about coming from the States—being incompetent and all so I told him to save it for after class. SOOOO…some Slytherins, my friends, and I got busted for our little fiasco in the hall and got detentions. Slytherins got it with McGonagall, but we got it with Snape. Grrrr. The guy hates Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws (oh, those are the other houses, by the way). I think the only thing that could make this guy smile would be watching a baby crying over a dead puppy. Anyways, our detention SUCKED. We had to clean the ENTIRE Potions classroom. Cauldrons, beakers, tables, floors, chairs, bookshelves, EVERYTHING. WITHOUT MAGIC. And the last class did some really foul smelling potion that I can still smell under my fingernails. It didn't help when Ron fell over into one of the cauldrons while trying to put some beakers back on a shelf. I actually think Snape made him trip, but I can't prove it. ARG! Yes, I've learned my lesson…but next time I want to get back at somebody I'll just have to make extra sure Snape isn't around. Just kidding (sort of)!_

_So after the first day (yeah, the fight, the detention…that was just my first day) things got slightly better. But only because I didn't have to deal with Snape for another two days. Creatures class is pretty cool—especially our teacher, Hagrid. He's half giant—no joke! Harry knows him really well because he was the one who told him Harry was a wizard. Hagrid used to be a student here, but he got suspended a long time ago. Don't worry, it's all cool now. He's really good with animals, but sometimes he has trouble keeping the class in control. Helping things get out of hand is usually my job. Divination (which is predictions and BS stuff like that) is a joke. Professor Trelawney reminds me of that psychic that used to live a few doors down from us in our apartment on Avenue A. Remember? The quack? Every class she's going on about how Harry's going to die and talks about Mars and Pluto in retrograde and crap like that. If she'd pull her head out of her own Uranus she'd realize that the entire class is asleep by the end of the class. If the exact opposite happens every time she predicts something I hope she doesn't say anything about me having a wonderful career at Hogwarts. Astronomy is pretty much like back home so at least there's one class besides potions where I know what I'm doing. Not that Potions matters anymore since Hitler will be breathing down my neck for the next year making sure I can't screw up once. No pressure or anything._

_Between classes, though, it's been really cool. We all went down to Hogsmeade—this little wizard town just down the road—last weekend and I got to do some shopping. Oh, yeah—SEND CHAP STICK! Wizard villages have everything magical I'd ever need, but not my black cherry chap stick. My favorite store down there is Honeydukes—it's a candy store that would make Willy Wonka himself drool. I'll have to get you some Chocolate Frogs for Christmas. OH! Quidditch is the bomb diggity yo over here. Harry is a Seeker and Ron is a Keeper for the Gryffindor team. I went for the Beater position, but they haven't posted the results yet. Yes, I remember what happened last team I was on, but it's totally different this time. I can be a team player, I promise!_

_I've been exploring the castle a lot, too. It's huge! People have actually gotten lost in the halls for days—no joke! I've gotten lost several times, but some of the ghosts are helpful. That's right, I said ghosts. Nearly-Headless-Nick is the Gryffindor ghost and he's pretty cool for a dead guy. His head is still barely attached by a little skin so that's why he's only nearly headless. It was really gross the first time I saw his head flapping to the side, but now it's pretty cool._

_I never realized how different things could be between Muggles and Wizards over here. They're so separated—it's not like back home where Wizards went between worlds all the time. It's kinda nice in a way, though, to be around people who just live magic. No real technology…just magic. It's refreshing. I know I'm probably freaking you out by now with all this magic talk, but it's on my mind a lot._

_So that's all I can think of for right now. I know I'm probably forgetting a lot of things, but I'll try to get them in the next letter. Hope it doesn't freak you out too much when this letter comes with an owl attached. Sorry, but it's the only way to get letters around here. If you want to write back just tell the owl when you want it to come back and it'll pick it up. Nifty, huh? Can't really think of anything I need, but as always, money is appreciated and welcome at all times! It's still a little weird here, but I'm doing a lot better than I thought. In another month I think it'll feel more like home. Write soon! Miss you!_

_Reggie_

_P.S.—I promise I'll try to not to fight, mouth off, set things on fire, blow things up, or otherwise engage in activities that have gotten me detentions and suspensions back home._

_P.P.S.—As always, I will not provoke unless I have been provoked first._

_P.P.P.S—But Malfoy is an exception_

_P.P.P.P.S—So is Snape._

_Reg_


	7. Swing Batter Batter

**_Warning: MARY SUE + QUIDDITCH LOOK AWAY._**

**_Disclaimer:_** JKR. Not mine. Got it?

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**_Chapter Seven: Swing Batter, Batter!_**

In what seemed like no time, it was the almost the end of October. Needless to say, Uncle Jack was less than pleased about my :ahem: adjustments to Hogwarts life. He warned me that it wasn't too late to drag me out of there and stick me in some Muggle school in London. He wrote back and told me that he had talked to Aunt Sarah—or rather, her lawyer had. Apparently, she's found some time to think about her old family and bothered to track down a lawyer to serve Uncle Jack with divorce papers. Ouch. Not just for Uncle Jack, but for me, too. I mean, I'm her own blood for Merlin's sake! Okay, so she was a little resentful that my mom was magic and she wasn't, but she was never really spiteful to me about it. It was more like, "I know you're magic just like your parents and I'll support you, but I'm going to secretly brood about it in my own way." The more I thought about the trouble I was getting into the more I realized that it was not what Uncle Jack needed to be hearing right then. So for a while I kept my head down and boiled over with rage in my own quite, teeth-grinding way. Maybe if I kept my mouth shut for once I could stay out of trouble for more than two days straight. It seemed like a good enough plan and I actually made it stick for nearly a month.

Nearly.

It started on a Saturday. Quidditch day—Gryffindor was in second running behind Slytherin. I'd started sitting with Hermione in the Gryffindor stands after I found out I didn't make the cut for Beater. Harry and Ron said they put up a fight for me, but it was Angelina who ultimately didn't want some kind of "violence-prone yank stirring up trouble on the team". WRONG! That's exactly what kind of person you need slinging Bludgers at the other team. Secretly, I wondered if my old team back home had mailed anything to Angelina. So there I was, wrapped up in my little black cloak and scarlet and gold scarf sitting like a goon on the Gryffindor sidelines.

"Cheer up, Reggie," Hermione said, "There are worse things than not getting picked for a team."

I was sulking with my head resting on my arms, which were crossed over the railing, "Yeah, I know. It just feels like I'm still being singled out for being a Yank and all."

"You are," Hermione said, matter-of-factly, "but I wouldn't worry about it. Like I said, it could be worse. You could be getting hexed in the hallways."

I sighed. Hermione was right. I supposed it just had to do with wanting to get back on a broom again. There aren't many places to go flying in New York. Every few weeks I would beg my aunt and uncle to take me up to this wizard park in Upstate New York where I could fly and do some intramural Quidditch games. Sure, every so often you'd have someone get busted for playing chicken with a subway train, but you could hardly blame them. With all the Muggle and magic integrated technology you still couldn't find a safe haven for flying. Harry had been nice enough to take me out to the field and let me ride around on his Firebolt a few times. I think it was because he knew what it was like wanting to fly around and not be able to. Harry and Ron were upset when I didn't make the team—it was really sort of flattering.

" 'Mione! Reggie!" someone panted. I looked up from the field and into Ron's blustering face, "Fred—hurt—can't play—" he was clutching his side from sprinting up all the stairs.

Hermione and I shot each other a look, "What? Fred's hurt?" Hermione gasped. She pulled out her wand and raced down the stairs. I simply stood there for a moment waiting for Ron to catch his breath.

"Better?" I asked as he straightened up. He nodded, "Okay, what's up?"

"Fred got jumped on his way out of the Hall," Ron said, grabbing my robe and dragging me down towards the locker room, "Nobody saw what happened, but I know Slytherin had something to do with it. He's out cold and Madame Pompfry said it'd be another hour until he's up again. Hurry up! Everybody's waiting!"

"What do you mean 'everybody'—" I began

Before I could finish we were bursting into the Gryffindor locker room. Harry, George, Angelina, and Hermione were waiting for us when we got there. George was hunched over on a bench while Harry was arguing with Angelina—and before I even heard what they were talking about I knew what was going on.

"She's perfect, Angie! You saw her!"

"Do you have any idea how many penalty shots we're handing them if we put her on a broom?" Angelina hissed.

"Um, I'm right here," I said, waving a hand dramatically.

They looked up. Harry grinned as Angelina strode over to me. I had to take a step back to avoid being run over, "Listen. As much as I'd rather see you keep both feet on the ground I even more rather see Slytherin lose their first place position. This does NOT mean you have a place on OUR team. You fill in today only and you listen to every play I've got. If you start drawing fouls then you'll find the Slytherins and I have something in common when it comes to you. Got it?"

I looked over her shoulder at Harry. He was nodding reverently and I just rolled my eyes. I looked back at Angelina—as much as she was pissing me off the chance to play a game of Quidditch was just too tempting to refuse. I gave her a mock salute, "Yes sir, Captain, sir!"

Angelina glared and stalked off, muttering something about taking Fred's robes. George hoisted himself off the bench and tossed the uniform at me. He looked at me with something of a mischievous look—I knew that he was going to be out for revenge on his twin. I winked. _Let the games begin,_ I thought as Ron handed me a broom.

Six fouls and nearly 45-minutes later things were not looking good. Slytherin was up by 80 points and Harry had been circling around the field with no sign of the Snitch. I had tried to follow Angelina's plays…I really did. They just all sucked.

"Ron! Heads up!" I shouted as I watched a Slytherin zip by with the Quaffle. As the player went by I caught a glimpse of the Bludger coming my way. I reared my arm back—WHAP!

I sent it streaming right into a Slytherin back. Too bad it wasn't a knife—but we ended up with another foul anyways. Angelina was glaring daggers at me.

"What did I say, Yank?" she hissed while Madam Hooch was seeing the penalty shot, "We follow my plays—"

"Your plays blow," I snorted, "And I'm just trying to give Harry time to find that Snitch. Be glad I'm not aiming for you," I glared back.

If George hadn't come up right then I'm sure we would've given students and faculty alike an aerial catfight. He slung his bat over his shoulder and grinned.

"You've got one hell of a violent streak in you," George said.

"Comes naturally to us Americans, don't you know." I shrugged, "Any ideas?"

"We need to take Malfoy out," George replied, "If for no other reason than I know it was him who got Fred out of the game. He's been helping their keeper too much—we can't get through."

I glanced down the field. Malfoy was circling the goals in mad circles while keeping an eye on Harry. I looked up at Harry and he shook his head. Still no Snitch. I looked back at Malfoy and then at George and Angelina. Then at the teacher stands—and a plan began forming.

"If you want to get Malfoy out of the way we'll need to work together on this one," I said, looking straight at Angelina, "No fouls. This has to be a clean hit." I sounded like mafia, "We've got to give Harry more time."

Angelina glared at me. She may have hated me, but she knew I was right. There was no way we were going to win this if we kept her plays up and she knew it. She nodded curtly, "So what is it going to be?"

"Stay here!" I shot up towards Harry.

"Some game, huh?" He muttered, "I haven't seen the Snitch yet! I've never taken this long to find it--"

"Shut up and listen," I snapped, "When I signal you go tearing off towards the teacher stands as fast as you can. Malfoy always follows you when he thinks you've seen the Snitch. It'll give us enough time to clear the goal and get the game tied up. Leave Malfoy to me and George."

Harry looked at me and cocked an eyebrow, "What are you up to, Reggie?"

I winked and grinned, "The usual. You just look for that Snitch!" I took off back towards Angelina and George. Our timeout was almost over as I pulled them into a huddle.

"Okay, here's what we do…"

Two minutes later I was waving my arm downfield—it was Harry's signal. Harry nodded and took off towards the teacher stands. _Take the bait, take the bait_, I thought over and over again. Sure enough, Malfoy went tearing after Harry, convinced that he had seen the Snitch. I nodded at George while Angelina took off to retrieve the Quaffle from Slytherin.

"Flank him!" I shouted! George and I came up besides Malfoy on either side. Malfoy shot a dirty look over at me and I sneered. I leaned forward trying to get enough speed to get ahead of him. If all went according to plan I would be able to kill two birds with one stone. Well, not kill exactly…just maime.

I positioned myself between Harry and Malfoy, still picking up speed as the four of us went barreling towards the teachers. Suddenly, Harry looked down and I followed his gaze—the Snitch. He had to go after it, but not just yet.

"Harry! On three!" I shouted. I could see him nod. The teachers' stands were still several yards away.

"One…."

Harry tightened his grip--

"Two…"

George picked up speed and closed the gap between himself and Malfoy—

"Three!"

Harry took the sharpest dive I'd ever seen. It was like he took a 90 degree angle—something Malfoy couldn't follow. Right then, George came up from behind him and gave Malfoy just enough nudge to get his attention.

"Hey Malfoy!" George chided.

It was long enough for Malfoy to look back for a moment and for George to "pass the ball" to me…so to speak.

"HEY SNAKE BOY!" I shouted.

It was just enough for Malfoy to jerk his head forward. I took a sharp turn up—right in front of the teachers. And Snape. My uniform had been billowing so much with the speed that Malfoy hadn't been able to see what was in front of Harry and me. He didn't even see it coming.

WHAM!

Malfoy plowed into the teachers' stands—only narrowly missing Snape. Snape had to take a dive into McGonagall to keep from being hit. McGonagall fell over into Professor Sprout…and so on…and so on. By the time Harry had caught the Snitch the entire teachers stand had fallen over—with Dumbledore being the only exception. Who was laughing hysterically. Snape could've shot lasers through his eyes as several teachers wedged Malfoy out of the rumpled banners he had crashed into.

The stands exploded with cheers—even some of the Slytherins. George and I had circled around the teachers and made our way to midfield where Gryffindors had begun swarming the field. Harry had made a circle and was gliding towards us—the Snitch clutched in his hand. As soon as we all touched down Harry was off his broom and practically knocked me over.

"Bloody brilliant!" He shouted as Ron, Hermione, and a dozen other students mobbed him.

I was grinning so fiercely my face hurt. Hell, even Angelina was smiling as she patted me on the back, "It still doesn't mean you're on the team, but we could always use some plays." She winked.

As the festivities continued, I looked up field to where Malfoy and his teammates were being led off the field by Snape. Snape turned and glared daggers once more. Potions would be hell next week, but what else was new?

I'd finally taken out Malfoy and Snape. And consequences be damned….


	8. Holiday Misconceptions

**_Warning: Thanksgiving at Hogwarts...a Sue doesn't get much worse that this..._**

**_Disclaimer:_** JKR. Not mine. Got it?

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**_Chapter Eight: Holiday Misconceptions_**

After my brief return to Quidditch life seemed to settle down for a while. October rolled by and gave way to November and the end of the term was coming up faster than I realized. It was weird not being around family for Thanksgiving—no Macy's parade, no turkey (except the usual at dinner), no football (the real American football—not this soccer crap. Not that I have anything against soccer it just gets confusing which sport is which). Needless to say, I was shocked when I woke up Thanksgiving morning to a common room filled with Pilgrims and Indian paraphernalia strewn around. Hermione had gone to the trouble of looking into American holiday customs after I had mentioned my longing for canned cranberries. So, several Gryffindors (spearheaded by Harry, Ron, and Hermione) decided to bring a little bit of home to me…

"Shhh! She's coming!" I heard someone hiss as I stumbled down the stairs. I yawned—it was nearly 6am and I had only gotten up at Hermione's prodding. Something about getting up to study for a Transfiguration quiz we were having that day.

"I'm coming, Hermione—" I yawned as I rounded the last bit of the winding staircase. I coughed with shock.

"SURPRISE!" It looked like a cornucopia had exploded in the Common room. There were several people wearing makeshift Indian headdresses (in Gryffindor colors, naturally) and a few who had tried to capture the essence of a Pilgrims hat. Most had just wrapped a belt around their heads. There were gourds and centerpieces everywhere that were made of arrows and turkeys. Yes, both of them. A giant banner hanging over the fireplace: "Happy Thanksgiving Reggie". If my jaw could've hit the floor it would have.

"What—the—thingie…." I stuttered as I looked around in awe. There's nothing more amusing than watching the English trying to capture the essence of an American holiday. Every stereotypical Thanksgiving notion had been overdone. There were no words.

"We didn't want you to feel like you were missing out on anything," Hermione smiled as she threw a headdress on me. She stood back and beamed, "I looked into the holiday when you mentioned it. It seemed so important that I thought—"

"We thought it would cheer you up," Ron finished. He had a belt wrapped around his head, "And look! Look!" He was pointing to the other side of the room. Someone had charmed various books, figurines, and clothing items to parade around a table in the corner.

"What would Thanksgiving be without a parade?" Harry asked. He was grinning as much as Hermione. I was still speechless. On one hand, I was floored that I had friends that would go through all this trouble to bring a little Turkey Day to me. On the other hand, it was absolutely staggering the misconceptions they had about the holiday. I'd never really even thought about pilgrims and Indians—it was always about turkey and football in my house. I didn't want to trample their work so—

"It's….wow…guys. Really…wow." I said smiling. I pushed the headdress out of my eyes. Neville, Ginny, Fred, George, Dean, and even Angelina were there and seemed so proud of themselves. I couldn't tell them that this was absolutely the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. "Um…are we going to wear these things all day?" I asked, pointing at my Gryffindor inspired Indian wear.

"Oh, of course we can't," Hermione whipped out her wand and with a quick flick all of the headdresses zipped off our heads and over into the corner, "But we can have them for the feast later."

"Feast?" I asked. _Oh, good lord._

"Yeah, the Thanksgiving dinner," Harry explained, "Don't you usually have a huge dinner with all your family and talk about what your thankful for? That's what the books said."

I thought back to my Uncle Larry's (Uncle Jack's older brother) last family blessing:_ We are so thankful for the Yankee's season, Oh Lord._ The truth behind the holiday would kill them.

"Yes!" I lied, enthusiastically.

"Well, it's settled then," said Ron, "Come on, let's get some breakfast!" And with that our ragtag parade of stereotypical goodness spilled out of the common room.

The festivities continued throughout the day. Word spread throughout the castle about Thanksgiving at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore even stopped me as I left the Great Hall to tell me Happy Thanksgiving and that there would be a turkey dinner provided that evening. It was all I could do to fall to the floor in hysterics. It wasn't so much that everyone wanted to show me a good time—it was his or her own fascination at a holiday that made no sense. Think about it—how did we go from pilgrims and Indians to giant floats and football classics? Only in America. It was obvious that the whole situation made Malfoy sick—and it made me sicker thinking for once I had something in common with Malfoy.

"What's with all this Yankee holiday nonsense?" Malfoy spat as we filed into the Potions classroom that afternoon, "Turkeys? Indians? Rubbish!"

"It's a time to be thankful, Malfoy. For instance, I'm thankful that you have such poor reflexes. It makes it easier for me to kick your ass." I smiled sweetly.

Malfoy was on his feet and coming towards our table when Snape stormed the room. Our little discussion would have to wait until later. Snape was obviously not pleased at the festivities taking place in the castle. Then again Snape wasn't pleased at a lot of daily festivities—such as the sun rising or students breathing. He glided soundlessly to the front of the classroom and glared at us, as usual. With a quick flick of his wand the daily potion appeared on the board and we went about our routine.

I was carefully slicing my delgas root when Snape, who had been making his rounds of misery, came up beside me. I focused my razor, imagining I was carefully dissecting his chest cavity.

"So, Miss Bradshaw," he said dryly, " Didn't feel you were receiving enough attention, did you? Why, may I ask, did you feel the need to parade this ridiculous holiday display throughout the entire castle? How typical of an American—flaunting the conquest of another civilization through brute force and celebrating it with an elaborate feast."

I gritted my teeth as Harry snuck a glance at me. _God, I hate it when he has a point._ There was no need for Snape to know I shared his opinion so I simply added my ingredients to the cauldron and began to stir.

"I don't see what Thanksgiving has to do with your class, Professor," I said just as dryly, "But thank you for your stunning insight into American history."

Snape sneered, "Five points from Gryffindor for your lip," he strolled to the front of our table to oversee Harry and me personally. I felt bad for making Harry on edge—he hated Snape even more than I did. He glared at us as we added the rest of our ingredients while making snide comments—most of which I didn't hear. I pictured his head as I stabbed at the wormroot. I crushed the beetles' eyes into a fine powder thinking it was his own bones. It's amazing how pure blinding rage can focus you into a pillar of pure productive violence. I barely noticed the end of class until Harry tugged on my sleeve.

"Um, Reggie. Class was over five minutes ago," Harry said quietly.

I looked up at him. His black hair was sticking up everywhere and he ran a hand through it nervously. He probably thought I was going to slice him or something. He smiled, "You okay?"

I sighed and put the razor down. The classroom had cleared except for Harry and me—even Snape was gone from the room. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little…focused." I waved my wand and cleaned up the mess at the table, "Let's go."

We made our way out of the dungeons and started towards Gryffindor tower. Honestly, as the day had progressed I'd only felt more depressed—thinking about family and things I was missing. I hadn't even realized how homesick I was until Uncle Jack had written to me saying he would be in Boston during Christmas tying up a business deal. I hadn't heard anything from Aunt Sarah for months now. Every November back at the Academy we took a trip upstate for an overnight trip—we worked on natural magic and collected our own potion ingredients. Even the show of support from everyone at Hogwarts had started to make me feel more depressed. I missed home.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Harry asked as we climbed one of the many moving staircases.

"It's nothing," I sighed.

"You're a horrible liar, you know?" Harry nudged me with his shoulder, "Come on. You barely rose to Snape today."

"It's just—" I began. I didn't want to burst their little bubble of Thanksgiving happiness, "Don't get me wrong, everything you guys did today was really sweet. I just…it reminds me of all the stuff I'm missing at home. I didn't think I'd actually get homesick, but I am."

Harry nodded and didn't say anything for a moment. I was afraid I'd insulted him when he sighed, "You know, I thought that would happen. You've always said what a great family you've had and—"

I snorted, "Great family nothing! My parents are dead, my aunt ran off with another man, my uncle—while he loves me—is edgy around me because of my magic. It's not a family thing—I know that Thanksgiving this year would be really awkward give the past year. I think…it's more of a guilt thing."

"Like you feel guilty about being here? Like Hogwarts is more of a home than your real home was?" Harry smiled. _Damn, I hate it when he knows exactly what I'm thinking._

"Yeah, that'd be it," I laughed, "I mean, I was happy back in New York, but not as happy as I am here. It's like I feel guilty about being happy. Does that make sense?"

I hadn't realized we were at the Fat Lady's portrait. We stood there for a minute before Harry leaned up against the wall to face me, "I know exactly what you mean. Hogwarts is my home—not Privet Drive. But you can't feel guilty about being happy, Reg. This place…Ron…Hermione…Hagrid…Dumbledore…even you, Reg…this is my family now. I think it's yours, too."

I blinked in surprise. _How could someone the same age as me is that smart,_ I thought? But Harry was right, as usual. Hogwarts was starting to feel more like home than New York—even after only a few months. After all, this was where my own parents came from—where they had learned magic and met each other. The friends that I had made here weren't as sarcastic and bitter as…well, me…but I had just taken to most of them without a hitch. Was it really so terrible to think of this vast castle as my home?

Harry could sense what I was thinking—I could tell because he was grinning as he usually did when he knew he was right and I didn't' want to admit it. Just then, he smacked his forehead with his hand, "The dinner!" He shouted. He grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me back down towards the Great Hall. I'd forgotten all about that evenings holiday feast. As we burst into the Hall I'd suddenly wished I had forgotten. Every table was strewn with cornucopias and decorative centerpieces. The centerpieces themselves had been charmed with little moving pilgrims and Indians who danced around what looked like a tee-pee. Even overhead where candles usually dotted the ceiling were various gourds in different sizes and colors. Most people knew what was going on by now, but that still didn't quell any of the confusion about exactly what Thanksgiving really was. Hermione and Ron waved from midway down the Gryffindor table. They, and several others, were wearing their ridiculous hats again. Somehow, Fred and George had managed to turn their festive headdresses into an actual turkey (well, stuffed—at least I hoped it was). I wedged my way between Ginny and Hermione as Harry sat next to Ron across the table. Harry winked as Dumbledore strode up to the podium and held up a hand for silence.

"As most of you probably know, this evenings feast has particular special meaning for our American guest, Miss Bradshaw. Today, in the United States, is Thanksgiving Day. A day celebrated to commemorate the peace between the first English settlers and the Native Americans," he began.

_Okay, so he's generalized quite a bit. He left out the part about our enslavement of the Indian people and how we stole their land, killed their resources, and forced them onto miniscule patches of land called reservations…_

"But tonight was not meant to bring unwanted attention upon Miss Bradshaw, who I'm sure has many definitions on the true meaning of her holiday, " I saw his bright blue eyes twinkle at me through those half-moon spectacles. Sometimes I really did wonder if he could read minds, "The premise of this holiday is very simple—to say what we are thankful for. It is a time for family and friends to come together and be grateful that we have our health, our magic, our dreams, and each other."

I could see people looking around at each other and heard whispers. Dumbledore went on, "Too often we rush through the everyday without taking pause to realize what a gift we truly have been given. To be alive…to be gifted with magic…to be able to practice our craft among friends…and to have Hogwarts as a sanctuary. It is with that in mind that I myself give thanks—" he raised his glass towards the students, "for you, my students, for my trusting staff, and to all at Hogwarts—my family."

With that everyone—even Snape—toasted a glass. Snape, however, didn't participate in the cheering afterwards. There were several who didn't really understand and still more going on about how lucky they thought they were. Our little group just sat there for a moment as the food materialized. It was a turkey dinner with all the fixings—stuffing, cranberries, and potatoes. Suddenly, I felt a swell of happiness inside my chest. With a half-smirk at Harry I raised my glass again.

"To family," I said.

Harry smirked back and raised his glass as well, "To family,"

"And friends," Hermione chimed in.

"And Quidditch," said Ron.

And with that we dug in.


	9. The Snape Before Christmas

**_Warning: If you haven't figured out this is a Mary Sue fic then you deserve your torment._**

**_Disclaimer: JKR. Not mine. Got it?_**

**

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****Chapter Nine: The Snape Before Christmas**

The evening before our last day of term, I found myself once again on my hands and knees scrubbing another foul smelling potion out of the many Potions Class cauldrons. Again, I couldn't keep my big mouth shut when it came to Malfoy. We had spent the better part of the last month glaring at each other across the room and trying to hex each other in the halls when no one was looking. Finally, today during double Potions he flicked some kind of root across the room and into my cauldron, completely destroying a perfectly good batch of Engorging draught. I knew Snape watched him do it and said nothing—he had a few things to say when I started swearing and dumped the steaming mess over Malfoy's oily little head. I cursed to myself thinking how I'd gone almost 3 months without getting a detention.

So there I was on Thursday night scrubbing away while Snape poured over some documents on his desk. I had just started on one of the larger cauldrons (I was actually completely inside it—on it's side, of course, not over a flame or anything) when for no reason I started humming to myself. I started very softly humming "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" so quietly I was sure Snape couldn't hear me. Even up to my waist in sticky cauldrons and putrid scourifying liquid I had the Christmas sprit. It was like Snape was Scrooge and I was the poor guy who worked for him and was treated like crap.

"Miss Bradshaw, is that really necessary?" Snape droned, not looking up from his papers.

"Sorry, sir," I said, "Just getting into the spirit a little."

We went on in silence for a few more minutes when I started humming again without realizing it.

"Bradshaw!"

"Sorry again, professor," I sighed, "It's just sort of habit for me to…you know, hum while I work."

"I'm amazed you have the capacity to multitask like that," Snape muttered.

"Well, I have mastered the art of walking and breathing at the same time," I replied sarcastically. I winced, _You can't go five minutes without some kind of crack, can you?_ But Snape didn't dock points—instead, he looked down at me from his desk with something of a half-smirk.

"Tell me, Bradshaw, why you find it so difficult to control that mouth of yours? You have enough wit about you—why not put it to better use in your schoolwork rather than your cynical banter?"

I blinked._ Did he just compliment me?_ "I suppose for the same reason you don't give any praise to your students. It's easier to be witty and cynical than dull and charming." I knew it didn't sound as right out loud than it did in my head, but Snape still didn't attack me. He was looking at me with something of curiosity now. I bent my head down again, intent on scrubbing—his looks were starting to weird me out. I could hear him go back to scribbling something on parchment and thought about what he said. Why was I so bent on being sarcastic all the time—and why did he never give praise. I scrubbed for a few more minutes to work up my courage before I opened my mouth again.

"Professor, why don't you praise your students?" I asked. I leaned back on my haunches and looked at him.

Snape looked up again, this time with no smirk. "Because praise builds confidence, Miss Bradshaw, and too much would make one feel they have a through knowledge of the subject. By using harsh criticism—which is often well deserved—I can prepare you not only for the harsh realities of the world, but fuel the desire to constantly push yourself to achieving perfection."

I sat thinking on his words for a minute before I responded, "Just because you give someone a compliment instead of a critique doesn't mean they're going to have an ego problem. Did you ever think, sir, that maybe we could be motivated by positive reinforcement rather than being called morons on a daily basis?"

He folded his long fingers and continued to stare down at me. For some reason right then the man didn't intimidate me. Maybe I was starting to find my nerve around him—or maybe it was the fumes from the cleaning solutions.

"Are you saying you are not satisfied with my observations?" Snape said, coolly.

"Not at all, sir," I said, shifting my weight, "Its just…take Neville for example. Did you ever think that maybe if you told him once that he was making progress or his stirring techniques were improving that he might actually go an entire class without blowing something up?"

Snape's mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but actually doing it was impossible, "That might work, save for the fact that Longbottom has never made progress in this class and his stirring techniques are atrocious. I see no point in lying to a student, regardless of their progress or lack there of. Mediocrity is never appreciated in the real world and nor will it ever be in my classroom."

"But we aren't in the real world, Professor. Not yet. And wouldn't it be better to send a group of promising young wizards who know they lack in some skills, but have the ability to improve themselves than a bunch of bitter, cowering wizards who think they stink at everything and can't do anything about it?" I asked.

Again, Snape twitched. I started to become aware of the fact that I felt very cold. I looked down and remembered that I was standing in a pool of disinfectant in the middle of a very drafty dungeon. I wanted to finish this conversation with Snape, even if it did end with me losing all of our House points.

"And what skills do you feel you lack, Miss Bradshaw? Besides the ability to contain your violence and sarcasm." Snape asked. He sat back in his chair, watching me intently.

"Well," I began, "Besides your own points…I don't take some classes as seriously as I should. I know I can do them—I just choose not to apply myself all the way. I usually act before I think—hence, why I'm here on hands and knees at nearly midnight scrubbing again," I smirked. I half expected Snape to blast the look off my face with his wand.

He cocked an eyebrow, "This from your own mouth, Miss Bradshaw? I thought you Americans tended to hide your flaws rather than flaunt them like you do."

I shrugged and started scrubbing again, "Well, I guess that makes me unique, doesn't it, Professor?"

The only sound heard for a few minutes was the frantic scrubbing from my brush. I wasn't sure what was going on right then—but I was having an actual conversation with Snape and it didn't involve me mouthing off at him or focusing on his head bursting into flames (which I've always wondered if I could really do given enough rage.) For once, Snape was acting like a human being—talk about a Christmas miracle.

"You were rather adept at Potions at your old school, were you not?" Snape asked me.

I stopped again and rolled up my sleeves, "Well, I guess so," I looked up and saw he was looking down on me with that superiority look again. I bristled, "Yes. Yes I was, sir. I really liked Potions back home."

Snape began shuffling through his papers and then stood up. He walked over to the cauldron I'd been laboring over for nearly 45-minutes now. I thought he was inspecting my handiwork when he said, "Your enthusiasm for the subject is apparent in your work."

My mouth fell open. Snape—the man I thought embodied all that was evil in the world—just told me I was doing well in his class. He never told a Gryffindor—hell, a Slytherin, for that matter—that their work was more than mediocre. I quickly snapped my jaw shut before he had the chance to make some sort of comment about me looking like a fish. I felt something swell up inside me and it took a moment before I could figure out what it was. _Pride._ Here was a man who I'd come to look down on in disgust and now this sliver of approval from him had me reeling. Why the hell did I care what he thought? I knew my potions were up to snuff—in fact, some of them were N.E.W.T level. But to actually hear it from one of the foremost potions masters in the world—even if it was Snape—meant everything right then.

"That is enough for tonight, Miss Bradshaw," Snape said. With a quick flick of his wand the mess I'd been wading in had vanished and the cauldrons were stacked neatly in the corner. As Snape began gliding out of the classroom a thought popped into my head.

"Professor," I said. He turned, sending his dark robes billowing around him. This would probably come out a lot worse than I intended it too, but hey, "So's yours" I smirked.

The right side of his lip curled up in a half-smile. He nodded, turned, and left the classroom.

I stood there for a moment, too confused to know what had just happened. Snape complimented me…I went 5 whole minutes without thinking the name "git" in his presence…we didn't end up shouting at each other. I started making my way to the Gryffindor tower. Snape could be a smarmy bastard, but when it came right down to it he knew what he was doing. Every potion was right on and every critique was grounded. Yeah, he had a terrible way of going about corrections, but he had a point—the real world wasn't going to cut us any slack when we got out there. It was going to verbally abuse us, spit on our work, and demand for excellence. I barely noticed when I got to the Gryffindor common room. I only noticed I'd gotten there when I heard light snoring coming from the fireplace.

Harry had tried to wait up for me. There was a book lying at his feet that had slid off earlier. I smiled as I picked up the book and set it back on the table beside him. I shook Harry's shoulder—he was hard to rouse.

"Hey, Reg," he yawned, "How was the dungeon?"

"Alright," I said, "You know, I don't think Snape is a big a git as I first thought."

"Mmmm…" Harry murmured. He'd fallen back asleep in the chair.

I shook my head and made my way up to my room. Christmas miracle or not—I knew that it couldn't last forever. But it was enough for now…


	10. Merry Cavemas

**_Warning: My Mary Sue can kick your Mary Sue's ass. She's that BAD._**

**_Disclaimer: JKR. Not mine. Got it?_**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Merry Cavemas**

I was relieved when the term was over. I never told Harry or the others about my little "quality time" with Snape--I thought that was something I wanted to keep to myself for a while. The Saturday after classes were done for term, I found myself slipping into a sort of funk. Uncle Jack was stuck in Boston for the holidays and I didn't have any family living in Brittan. Everyone in Gryffindor tower was packing up and getting ready to catch rides back to their families--even Harry, who was spending Christmas with Ron's family. I was happy for Harry, I really was--I knew he came from a pretty harsh family, but it still didn't help the sinking feeling I had about spending Christmas alone in a drafty tower all by myself.

Those were my thoughts as I sat in the common room that Saturday. I was working on a letter to Aunt Sarah who had finally found it fit to send me holiday greetings. I was giving her a quill-full about abandoning the only blood family she had left in the world when Harry came up behind me.

"So, what are we up to?" Harry said as he flopped down into the chair next to me.

"Well," I half growled, "_I_ am writing a letter to my ingrate auntie who finally decided to give me the time of day after nearly a year of traipsing around Mexico." I threw my quill and sat back. Harry was giving me that _I-know-how-you-feel-look_, "It's no biggie," I shrugged, "It's just weird thinking about having this whole tower to myself for the break. I enjoy my quiet time alone, don't get me wrong, but…"

"You won't be alone, Reg," Harry smiled.

"Huh?"

"I said you won't be alone," replied Harry, "I told Ron that I decided to stay for the holiday. His mum won't be too happy, but no one should have to spend Christmas alone. Besides, there's loads we can do to keep busy."

"Harry! I don't want to skipping out on Christmas because of me," I cried, "Ron's mom is expecting you! And--and you've been looking forward to it all term!"

Harry shrugged and grinned, "No one should spend Christmas alone--especially you. Merlin knows what kind of trouble you'll get into in a lonely castle. At least this way we can spread the detention around. And no sense arguing either-Americans aren't the only stubborn ones, ya know!"

My jaw fell open and closed again. I wanted to protest--I really did, but the thought of getting to spend Christmas with one of my new best friends exploring a huge, practically empty castle was too much.

"Besides," Harry whispered, leaning towards me, "I got a letter from Sirius. He said he'd be outside of Hogsmeade on Christmas Day. I wanted you to meet him."

I nodded. I knew Sirius was Harry's godfather--I also knew that he was an escaped convict from the most wicked wizards' prison in the entire world. Wrongly convicted, but escaped nonetheless. I amused myself for a moment thinking of some gaunt jailbird in prison orange and a Santa hat.

"Oh! I'd better get Ron and Hermione's gifts before they go!" I jumped from my chair and ran upstairs. Hermione was just putting the last of her clothes in her trunk as I got there.

"Hi, Reggie. Harry said he's going to be staying here with you for Christmas," Hermione said as the last of her things floated into her trunk.

"Yeah, it totally shocked the hell out of me," I said, rummaging around in my trunk for presents, "Actually, I came up here to get your—ack! Where are they?"

Hermione flopped down on her bed and watched me shuffle through my trunk, "You and Harry seem to be hitting things off quite nicely."

"Well, Harry and I just get along really—"I looked up at her. I could tell there was a smirk on her face when she had said that before I even looked at her, "Oh no! Don't even start with that stuff!"

"Come on, Reggie! You and Harry are around each other all the time—"

"Yeah, with you guys! And what about you and Ron, huh? He seems to be spending an awful lot of time in the library these days." I retorted, but grinned.

Hermione blushed. _Bullseye,_ I thought. It was true that Ron and Hermione had been spending a lot of time with each other lately—so, naturally, Harry and I were left to our own devices. By devices, I mean ways one can break the rules without being caught—and Harry was just a _friend._ Besides, I thought it made Harry feel better because at least this way he wasn't the third wheel or anything.

"Look, I like Harry, but I don't _like_ Harry," I said, "He, like you and Ron, are just really good, super cool friends that I like to hang around. Ah!" I exclaimed as I found what I was looking for, "And speaking of super cool, here's your present." I tossed a shiny silver package in her direction.

Hermione caught it and tore off the wrapper, "Oooh! This looks fascinating, Reg!" She opened the book and began skimming through the pages. I knew that Hermione would want something bookish so I thought of the most boring textbook I had ever come across back at the Academy. _Integrating Magic and non-Magic communities: A Guide to Useful Magic and Technology_ fit the bill. Hermione snapped the book shut and threw me a package that had been on her bed, "This is yours, but don't open it until Christmas!"

I grinned, "Sure. Hey, I have to get my gift to Ron. Have a good break, Hermione!" And I headed back down to the common room with Ron's gift—a miniature set of American Quidditch figurines.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Harry and I kept busy with several games of Exploding Snap, walking around the castle and grounds, and just talking in the common room. It had been awhile since we'd been able to just sit and talk—talk about school, family life (or lack thereof), plans after Hogwarts, and general stupid chit-chat that takes place among all teenagers. That evening over dinner, we decided how to spend the next morning.

"Okay, so I told Sirius we would meet him around lunch time at the edge of Hogmeade," Harry said, heaving more potatoes onto his plate, "We should probably bring him some food, too. He doesn't get out of his cave much."

"Cave?" I asked as I raised an eyebrow. _Gee, what a festive place to spend Christmas Day._

"He stays in a cave outside of town when he comes near here. It's safe, but it's not a very pleasant place to live." Harry explained.

"Sounds like some of the slums back home," I commented, "But I want to stop in Hogsmeade anyways to pick something up for Sirius. Nothing fancy, but a little something." To be honest, I didn't know why I felt compelled to buy Harry's godfather a Christmas present when I hadn't even met the guy. Maybe the holiday weirdness from Snape was wearing off. _Ewww…Snape rubbing off on me!_

"He'd like that," Harry smiled, "And maybe we could stop off at the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer, too."

I couldn't help grinning. Christmas at Hogwarts was starting to beat Christmas in New York.

The next morning, Harry and I opened our presents down in the common room. From Hermione, I'd gotten a book (surprise, surprise) about advanced Transfiguration (since my rats to shoes still squeaked). Ron had gotten me Gryffindor hat, scarf, and pin (presumably to wear to Quidditch games) and even Ron's mom had sent me a sweater—blue with a big white star in the middle. Harry laughed hysterically when I put it on saying I looked like a part of the American flag. Uncle Jack sent some Galleons and 10 tubes of black cherry chap stick. Harry's was the last gift I got to.

"Hope you like it," Harry said, pulling his Weasley sweater over his head. This year he'd gotten a green sweater with a giant white H across the chest. I tore off the wrapping paper and there was a thin, black leather bound book lying in my lap. I looked up at Harry quizzically and he just kept grinning. I opened it up and my jaw dropped. There on the first page was a very young picture of my mom and dad.

"Surprised?" Harry said, "I had Hagrid help me with it. He did the same for me when I left after my first year. You said you didn't have any pictures of your parents when they were young so I had Hagrid get a hold of your mum and dad's old classmates to put this book together."

My mouth continued to hang open as I flipped through the pages. Both of them—mom and dad—were waving and laughing in every frame. I never realized how much I looked like my mom and it looked like the uniforms hadn't changed in a long time. There were pictures taken in the common room, pictures of my dad in his Quidditch uniform, pictures of the castle and grounds—all of it was too much for words. I looked back at Harry who was watching me with a sort of half grin.

"So, you like it, ri—"

I jumped across the pile of ripped wrappings and plowed over Harry with a hug, "Are you freaking kidding me! This is the best present ever!"

Harry laughed as he tried to untangle my arms from around his neck, "I take it you approve, then?"

I pulled Harry back up and sat back, clutching the book to my chest, "It's the best present I've ever been given. Hands down. Thank you soooo much!" I started flipping through it again. I suddenly thought about my present to Harry, "Oh! You didn't open mine yet!" I reached over near the tree and tossed him his package, "Merry Christmas!"

Harry ripped off the paper and exclaimed at what I now thought of as a boring present, "Wow, Reg!" He started flipping through the pages, "I can really use this! Angelina's plays have been sagging a bit lately. This could really help the team." I had gotten him a copy of _Great Quidditch Plays Through The Ages_—a book about different plays and drills. It paled in comparison to Harry's gift to me, though, and I don't like to be out-gifted.

"It's boring," I said, wrenching the book out of his hand.

Harry grabbed it back, "It's thoughtful and I love it, thank you very much." He wadded up a pile of paper and threw it at me.

After a few minutes of paper fighting, we got dressed, grabbed a quick bite in the Great Hall then started down to Hogsmeade. We stopped into a shop so I could buy Sirius a charmed blanket that didn't loose warmth.

"According to _Modern Cave_, throw blankets are very in this season," I told Harry sarcastically as we emerged from the shop. We stopped by the Three Broomsticks to grab several bottles of butterbeer to go as well as some extra sandwiches (besides the piles we'd taken from breakfast that morning). We waded our way through the snow-laden streets until we reached the edge of town. There was a long wooden fence that ran along the path—and right at the end was an enormous black dog.

"Uh…Harry…" I said, stopping suddenly.

"Oh, that's just Snuffles," Harry said. As if the dog had heard him, it came charging up the path straight for us. I screamed and dropped my bag, flinging my arms up to protect my face. Scenes from _Cujo_ flashed in my head. The next thing I heard was Harry laughing. I lowered my arms and saw that the dog had toppled Harry over and was licking his face.

"What the hell—"

"Reggie meet my godfather," Harry laughed, getting to his feet. The dog took up a place at Harry's side, stared at me, and barked. _If I didn't know any better I'd think the dog was grinning at me_, I thought. "Come on, why don't we head over? Reg and I brought you some stuff…" Harry started talking to the dog as they began walking down the path. _And the school thinks I'm nuts, _I mused to myself.

It was a long climb down the rocky path, but we eventually made our way to this tiny opening in the rocks. The dog climbed in first, followed by Harry, and finally myself. Of course, I nearly fell out of the opening again when I had straightened up and found the dog gone and a man in its place.

"ACK!"

"Pipe down, Reggie," Harry said, "Sirius, this is Reggie. Reggie, Sirius."

Sirius looked nothing like the convict I had expected. His face was fuller than I thought it would be and his hair—while still a little long (not hippie long, but just below his ears)—was clean. He was tall, too, and wore a disheveled black robe. He grinned broadly at me as I caught my breath.

"So this is the infamous Reggie," he laughed. It sounded more like a bark to me, "Very pleased to meet you at last!" He held out a hand.

"And you," I smirked, "It's not every holiday I get to spend squished in a cave with an escaped felon. It's a magic time of year."

Sirius laughed again, "I see what you mean by her sense of humor, Harry." I glanced over at Harry who had started getting the food out. He only winked at me and I glared (jokingly, of course) and stuck out my tongue, "So, what's been happening with you."

For nearly three hours, Harry, Sirius, and I talked about everything that had gone on at Hogwarts that term. Harry insisted on giving Sirius a blow-by-blow replay of the one Quidditch match I was allowed to play and I reciprocated by telling about our detention in the dungeon when we had to gut every slimy beast Snape could drag up for nearly two hours. I knew that Sirius had gone to school with Harry's dad, but I had no idea how much trouble they'd gotten into as well. I made several mental notes to myself and even tried to compare some of my stunts from my old school to those of the four Marauders. I failed miserably—the Marauders had me outstripped when it came to pure, unyielding chaos. After several bottles of butterbeer and dozens of sandwiches, Harry decided to go out for a stretch.

"You can say you're going to the bathroom," I yelled after him, "it's okay! It's a part of nature!"

"Shut up, Reg!" Harry yelled back.

Sirius just chuckled and shook his head, "I can see why the two of you get along so well. James and I had the same kind of relationship—very sarcastic with one another."

"I think cynicism is good for a person," I said, draining my third bottle of butterbeer, "Keeps you from taking yourself and the world too seriously. But yeah, Harry and I get along just fine."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "Just fine?"

I snorted, "What is it with everyone thinking that a guy and a gal can't be just friends without it resorting to romance! No one thinks like that when it comes to Hermione!" _Well, except when it came to Ron, but he doesn't need to know that._

"Ah, but Hermione has known Harry since their first year…and from what I hear from Harry, she and Ron have been spending quite a bit of time together," Sirius said, sipping his bottle, "Harry tells me quite a bit as you can see."

"Obviously," I rolled my eyes, "Is nothing sacred?"

Sirius laughed again, "If you say there's nothing between you and my godson I'll take your word for it. But you are teenagers—"

"—and therefore can't control ourselves?" I interjected, "Not all 15-year-olds are hormone raging lunatics, ya know."

"Not all, but most," Sirius winked.

I rolled my eyes yet again, "Cheers," I said as I toasted to my fourth round of butterbeer.

"So what did I miss?" Harry said as he came back.

"Reggie and I were just discussing your blossoming relationship," Sirius grinned. I spit out the butterbeer I had in my mouth and started choking. Sirius only laughed at the dumfounded expression on Harry's face.

After another hour, Harry and I reluctantly decided we should head back to Hogwarts. We picked up the trash and put it in our bags and Sirius gave both of us hug before changing back into a dog so he could walk us back towards town. Sirius kept running around in circles chasing his tail—making us laugh so we mostly stumbled over the rocks trying to get back to the path. When we finally made it back to the fence where we had met the sun was already setting.

"We'd better haul before it gets dark," I said to Harry.

Harry nodded and bent down to give Sirius one last hug, "I'll write soon. Make sure no one sees you!"

Sirius barked and I crouched down so I could pat his head, "I bet you hear this a lot, but you make a better dog than a human." Sirius barked very loudly at this, "I'm just kidding! Sheesh!" He looked like he was doing that grin again and I grinned back, "It was nice meeting you. Interesting, but nice." He barked again as Harry and I waved then turned to make our way back to the castle.

Definitely one of the weirdest holidays on record for me.


	11. Smoke 'Em If You've Got 'Em

**_Warning: It's a Mary Sue, people. COME ON:P_**

**_Disclaimer: JKR. Not mine. Got it?_**

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**Chapter Eleven: Smoke 'Em If You've Got 'Em**

The holiday break seemed way too short because before we realized it the second term was starting. Our workloads seemed to nearly double (if that were even possible) because of the upcoming O.W.L exams. We had a similar system in the States called a P.W.L—Preliminary Wizarding License—that we tested for when we turned 16. Sort of like Muggles and a drivers license only using a wand instead of a car and a crusty old wizard besides a…well, crusty old driving instructor. I knew that the tests were coming all year, but like any average teenager (with the exception of Hermione) I procrastinated. Now it was the end of January and I was still struggling with Transfiguration and Divination. Professor Trelawney had stopped taking my B.S. predictions when in a fit of exasperation I said the alignments of the planets showed she was going to be sacked as a fraud. Transfiguration hadn't been much better—while we had moved passed shoes I hadn't been able to quite make my toad completely vanish. Well, just his head.

"You'll get the hang of it," Harry told me one afternoon as we left class, "We'll just have to practice."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, "Your toad didn't parade headless around the classroom for half an hour."

Harry just laughed as we made our way up to the North Tower. I was actually starting to dread Divination as much as Potions—almost. Snape was still being git and hadn't given up on the Yankee slander. For the most part, I let it slide and tried to remind myself of that precious, unguarded quality time at Christmas—but I was starting to tap that well dry. The last lesson I made a production of rolling my eyes and he took twenty points. At least in Divination I didn't have to deal with Malfoy who had been seething ever since his little Quidditch fiasco. Every class I had with him consisted of nothing more than the two of us trying to get a rise out of each other—at least I could boast that we'd both been in detentions an equal number of times. As usual, I tried not to prowl the corridors by myself after dark (a habit you tend to pick up when living in New York), which ended up being a very good thing as several times Malfoy tried to get some of his goonies to jump me. It was like having the magical mafia after me 24-7.

When we finally reached the ladder to take us into the "Tower of Despair" (I now called it) I stopped short and whined.

"Unhhhh…" I moaned, "I don't wanna go up there!"

Harry had one hand on the ladder when he looked back at me, "You have to go, Reggie. You know how Trelawney is with you—she'll just make your next lesson harder."

I stood there for a moment looking at the ladder. Was it really worth it? It meant spending a whole hour and a half dodging teachers and other students. My homework load would be massive next time—not to mention Trelawney would have my head on a stick next to her orb if she found out. I'm already behind in Divinations, but is an hour of hiding in seclusion worth it? _Hell yes!_

"I'm not going," I said defiantly as I slung my bag over my other shoulder, "but you have fun."

"Hang on!" Harry started his way back down the ladder, "Are you skipping?"

"Yes. Yes I am," I said, sticking my nose slightly in the air, "I've decided I deserve a break and Divinations be damned."

Harry smiled and shook his head, "I can't remember when I last skipped a class."

"Come on—it's not like we're doing anything useful. Look at it this way—we can say we had a premonition that this class would be completely pointless and an utter waste of our lives and the planetary alignment said we should be playing Exploding Snap down by the lake." I grinned. Without another word the two of us sprinted back down the tower steps just as the giant bell tolled signaling the start of class.

"Ron's gonna kill me," Harry huffed as we finally made it to the bottom stair.

"Ron's a big boy--he can fend for himself," I wheezed. I looked around, "Okay, now all we have to do is not be seen. That shouldn't be too hard—there's loads of places we can hide."

But Harry wasn't listening—instead he was rummaging around in his bag and was pulling out an old piece of parchment. I didn't pay Harry any mind until I watched him pull out his wand, clear his throat, and tap on the map, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good."

I gaped at the parchment as a small glob of ink formed in the middle and branched off into all directions. Lines formed boxes and letter and before I knew it I was staring down at—

"The Marauders Map," Harry said proudly, "My dad helped make it when he went to school here. Fred and George Weasley gave it to me my third year to help me sneak into Hogsmeade." Harry opened it up and I gasped as I watched little dots shift around the map. Each one was labeled for a person in the school—teachers and students.

"Kick ass!" I exclaimed, reaching for the map, "Okay, so all we have to do keep an eye out for anyone who might come our way and we should be good, right?"

"Right," Harry said, "Okay—"he looked down at the map"—now most the teachers seem to be in their classrooms. We could sneak back to the common room—"

"_Bzz!_ Wrong!" I said, finally wrenching the map from him. It was like holding trouble in your hand—I had to contain my own mischievous giggling. "We need someplace that we won't bump into anybody. Who's to say McGonagall won't come into the room at anytime?"

"Hmmm," Harry leaned over, scratching his head with the end of his wand, "We could try the third floor. I don't think it's so forbidden anymore now that the stone is gone."

"Lovely," I grinned and handed the map back to him, "Let's go."

We kept looking down at the map periodically as we made our way to the third floor. Once we came close to running into Filch, but Peeves just happened to start slinging Dungbombs at Mrs. Norris down a different corridor. There's something magical (well, not literally) about skipping classes sometimes. It always gave me a rush knowing we could be discovered at anytime. My cousin Jessie used to tell me that's how she felt when she shoplifted. _Eh, to each their own,_ I thought. We had nearly made it to the third floor completely undetected when—

"Snape!" Harry whispered. I looked down and sure enough the tiny Snape label was approaching the t-junction in front of us we needed to cross.

"Shhh! Hide!" I hissed. We both looked around frantically for a moment before Harry noticed a door a few paces behind us. He cracked it open to get a look and grabbed a hold of my sleeve to pull me inside. Harry got the door closed just at Snape made it into the hallway. We held our breath—if Snape caught us busted wouldn't begin to describe our punishment. Harry pressed a finger to his lips and I bugged my eyes at him as if to say _duh_! His footsteps didn't sound like they were slowing down, but he definitely was coming our way. I looked down at the map—he was only a few feet away now and the footsteps were getting louder. I glanced over and could see a grin spreading across Harry's face. _He's got more rebel in him than I thought._ Harry had a flare for breaking the rules when need be—I just broke rules for the hell of it. Snape's footsteps were right in front of us…then slowly moving away and echoing down the corridor.

"Well, that was lucky," I hissed at him. Harry wasn't paying attention—his eyes were back on the map and drawing a finger along the page. I peeked over and saw who he was following—Draco Malfoy was prowling near the edge of the Forbidden Forest with Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry didn't look up, but spoke in a very haughty manner sounded like Malfoy, "You know—there aren't any teachers paroling the grounds right now. Very dangerous, you know—anything could happen."

"Why Mr. Potter, if I didn't know any better I'd say _you're_ the one who's up to no good," I said. I jabbed Harry playfully in the sides before we crept out of the closet we'd ducked into.

Minutes later, we were edging our way between the Quidditch pitch and the forest. Malfoy and company hadn't moved since we started out. We still had nearly an hour until the bell rang—plenty of time to stir up some mayhem. We were darting in and out of the trees now being sure to stay well enough hidden in the edge of the forest. Without even looking at the map I could tell we were getting close because I suddenly caught a familiar scent.

I threw up an arm to hold Harry back, "Hang on," I sniffed the air.

Harry sniffed and wrinkled his nose, "Ug! That smells like—"

"—Cigarettes!" I hissed. The smell of cigarettes was surprising for several reasons. One, it was a shock to my system after having been relieved of the odor for several months now. Second, the only thing I'd seen wizards smoking were funky looking pipes (those had been back at the Leaky Cauldron). Third—well, it was just mind-blowing that someone as down on Muggles as Draco Malfoy would be smoking common cigarettes.

Harry verbalized my own thoughts, "Why would Malfoy be smoking?"

I shrugged, "Hey, if he wants to kill himself I wont' stop him." I looked over Harry's shoulder at the map, "And there aren't any teachers around so we couldn't get him busted if we wanted to."

Harry looked back at me with that mischievous grin, "Who says we need a teacher to get him busted?"

"Not me," I hissed, "What's the plan?"

Harry folded up the map and we crept a little closer. After a few more minutes we could hear voices and we crouched down behind a conveniently located thorny bush. We could barely see through the thorns, but it was enough to see three familiar outlines.

"—I mean, how can Muggles find these so addicting? It's ridiculous! Of course, I can see it making a profit with the right enchantments placed on them. Enhance the addiction—I bet there's a potion. I could make a fortune! Toss me another pack, Goyle."

So now Hogwarts had its first drug lord. Okay, so Malfoy was an amateur, but I could see it getting out of hand. That was one of the surprising things about Hogwarts—no drugs or alcohol (except butterbeer and you'd need about 12 of those to even get a buzz). It never even seemed to cross anyone's mind here because we all knew that someone somehow would find out about it and have us dissected and put in jars for Snape's classroom. The kids back in New York would find it old fashioned, but I found it almost purifying to know there was still a place in the world where the only high you could get was from playing pranks on your friends (and enemies) and just being in a place that made you truly happy. _God, I sound like a damn Hallmark card,_ I thought.

Harry had his wand out at this point and was peeking his head over the shrub.

"What are you doing?" I hissed and tried pulling at his robes to get him to crouch back down.

Harry looked down at me and put a finger to his lips again—then he winked. He peeked back over and gave his wand a tiny flick. "_Inhalo,"_ he whispered.

The next thing I heard was three peopling trying to simultaneously hack up their lungs. I stuck my head up over the bush and sure enough there were Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all bent over coughing furiously. I saw a cigarette fly out of Crabbe's mouth and realized what Harry had done—made them all inhale the smoke _and _the entire cigarette. I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing as we both ducked behind the bush again.

"Oooh! I got one!" I stuck my head around the side and with a quick, "_Incendio_," the pack of cigarettes had burst into flames at their feet. Between the coughing and the confusion Malfoy hadn't noticed that his robes were starting to catch fire. Watching him try to extinguish himself in that condition was quite amusing.

"What the bloody hell—" Malfoy wheezed once he finally got air in his lungs again and had stopped smoldering.

"Do you think a teacher…" Goyle's voice trailed off. That was the first time I'd ever heard him string more than two words together in something that closely resembled a sentence.

"Come on!" Malfoy snapped, "And leave that stuff here! It's not worth it if that's how they're going to act."

We listened for a few moments while their footsteps faded away before our laughter couldn't be contained any longer. It started out as muffled hissing and before long we were howling at the top of our lungs.

"That's how they act!" I cried, "Like it's the cigarette's fault! What an idiot!"

Harry wiped a tear from his eye, "Damn, that was fun. We should skip Divination more often."

From a distance we heard the bell toll as if the school itself had heard and was chastising us. _Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it actually was_, I thought. We picked our way back through the forest and towards Hagrid's cabin for our Care of Magical Creatures class.

"Reggie, have you ever smoked?" Harry asked.

The question caught me off guard. "Why?"

"I dunno. Just curious…have you?"

I looked down at the ground, suddenly very interested in the fallen tree limbs we were climbing over. "Yeah a few times." _If by few you mean several. And by several you mean packs._ I had actually tried it when I was thirteen and picked it up every so often when things got really crazy back home. It was stupid and I hadn't done it since I'd gotten to England. I figured every kid tried it at one point, but for some reason just admitting it out loud made me feel almost—dirty.

"But you don't anymore, right?" Harry stopped in front of me now and was giving me a weird look I hadn't seen before. I couldn't tell if he was angry or worried or what. "You haven't smoked since you got here, have you?"

"No and what's with the third degree, huh?" I said, starting to get on the defensive, "It was back in New York. It's stupid and disgusting and gross and—"

"—Because it's not good for you!" Harry exclaimed. He could see the look of surprise on my face because he sighed. "It's just—a few years ago there was a fellow in my neighborhood who died from lung cancer. I overheard my aunt and uncle talking about how the bloke had been smoking since he was a teenager."

"Okay, Mister After-school special," I said, "Look, I said I don't and I don't. I'm not going to keel over right here and now because I smoked a few back home, all right? And you've got a lot of room to talk about doing stuff that's not good for you! Three-headed dogs—chasing werewolves—ringing any bells?"

"I never chased after Lupin!" Harry exclaimed. I could tell now he was getting angry, but I didn't understand why. "I just don't want you picking up a habit like that like Mr. Jacobs did."

I rolled my eyes and smiled, hoping it would break the tension. "I'm not going to end up in an iron lung, Harry. Trust me. I'm sorry I said anything about Lupin—"

"—S'alright," Harry muttered, "but we'd better get moving if we want to get to class on time."

I followed behind Harry, still not quite sure what had just happened. It was one of our first fights and I didn't even know what it was really about. I didn't understand why me smoking would be a big deal to him._ Well, because he knew somebody who died of lung cancer, dumbass. He's a friend and he cares about you!_ Hermione's voice suddenly rang in my head…

"_You and Harry seem to be hitting it off quite well…"_

_Noooooo. Definitely not. Nope._ There was no way I was going to let anything happen to mine and Harry's friendship—Ron and Hermione might be testing those waters, but I was damned if I was going to put a toe in. At that very moment I remembered that Valentine's Day was only two weeks away. Harry and I hade joked about going as each other's "dates" and seeing who was out with who._ It just means we're going out to laugh at everyone else!_

And somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice was laughing at me…


	12. Dear Uncle Jack, Part II

**_Warning: Mary. Sues. Abound._**

**_Disclaimer: JKR. Not Mine. Got it?_**

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**Chapter Twelve: Dear Uncle Jack, Part Two**

_Dear Uncle Jack,_

_Merry belated Christmas! Thanks for the money and the chap stick! Both have been put to good use, I assure you. Holy crap—where to start._

_I've been a good girl (relatively)—okay, as good a girl as I can possibly be, which isn't saying a lot. The good news is I'm down to 5 detentions a month! It's a new record for me! Most of the detentions have been with Snape. Here's the weird thing—I think the slimy git actually likes me! He's on my case every day, he rips apart everything I do, and he belittles me every chance he gets! In some sick, twisted way it's his way of showing approval—that's just wrong on levels I can't even begin to explain. So when I'm not getting detention in Potions I'm doing all right. We're doing Vanishing Spells in Transfiguration (the class where we change things—i.e. the flaming cat incident). We're practicing on toads, but so far I can only make the head and legs vanish, which you would think be funny, but really looks sad. It looks like a pulsating spleen. Divination still sucks (mostly because the teacher is a FRAUD), but I've been biting my tongue when it comes to Trelawney's predictions and inner eye crap. My Care of Magical Creatures classes are still a trip—mostly because of Hagrid and his love of exotic and quasi-dangerous creatures. I'll have to take a picture of a Blast Ended Skrewt and send it to you—they're really nasty little buggers. Herbology is still all right—I've managed to make it two whole weeks without killing any plants. As for Astronomy—well, at least I'm not falling asleep during the class. As much…_

_I got to play Quidditch a few months ago! I know I never wrote and told you about it, but it was a last minute thing. The Slytherins jumped one of the Beaters on the Gryffindor team and they needed someone to stand in for him. Ta-da! We won thanks to a particularly brilliant plan of mine (if I do say so myself. And I do…quite often). We were playing Slytherin and Malfoy is a Seeker on their team—long story short, Fred Weasley, Harry, and I ended up faking out Malfoy and got him distracted enough to not watch where he was going and he slammed into the teacher stands taking out a few professors with him. It was freakin' awesome, Uncle Jack—next year if I make the team you HAVE to come up for a game. That is, once I figure out where HERE is—no one really knows where Hogwarts is, exactly and come to think of it I don't think you'd even be able to get in. There's lots of wardings up so all Muggles see is a decrepit old castle. Be glad you don't have to come for parent-teacher conferences—that would've been fun._

_So anyways…Harry ended up staying at school for Christmas and we had a blast. His godfather ended up coming up for the day and might I say, he's quite a character. He and Harry's dad were famous in their days for causing chaos that makes my antics look like harmless accidents—yeah, they were that bad. And you think I'm a handful—I took some notes and offered to burn candles as a form of worship, but he said it wasn't necessary. He gave me a few pointers and wished me the best—I'll keep you updated. Other than that, Harry and I spent most of the vacation catching up on work and just hanging out around the castle. We ended up playing a lot of wizard chess because I'm the only one Harry can beat—I figure it helps his self-esteem. Once classes started up again we got busy—especially since the O.W.Ls are coming up soon. That's the Ordinary Wizarding Licenses—so I can use magic and stuff outside of school and get registered for my N.E.W.T level classes next year (advanced classes to get ready for a career. Me with a real job—is that a trip or what?). The tests are supposed to be brutal and I won't get my results back until July. I'm going to be real fun company this summer, let me tell you. The tests start in June and we are up late every night trying to cram as much magical crap in our heads as possible. I swear I should be taking Headache-relief potion in an I.V. drip 24-7!_

_So when I'm not in class, the library, the common room, or vomiting from nerves in the loo (I like loo more than bathroom now—it just sounds cooler) I've been in Hogsmeade. Hey, do you think that Harry could come visit in London over the summer? I haven't asked him yet, but I thought I'd check with you first…maybe he could come stay with us for the last few weeks of summer before we go back to school? Trust me, his family won't mind._

_Anyways, I can't think of much else to say for now. Ron's birthday is coming up and Harry, Hermione, his twin brothers (Fred and George), Ginny (his sister), me, and pretty much the rest of Gryffindor is trying to plan him a surprise party. Harry, Fred, George, and I are on distraction detail. I can hear you from here—NO I WILL NOT GET MYSELF EXPELLED. Detention maybe. At least here they don't use the paddle…or the rack. ;) Rules were meant to be bent and occasionally broken, Uncle Jack. _

_I'd better wrap this up and get back to some real work. Those potions won't explode themselves, ya know! Lots of love!_

_Reggie_

_P.S.—If Aunt Sarah asks, I did get her letter._

_P.P.S—Ron says I should tell Aunt Sarah to sod off, but I don't know what that means._

_P.P.P.S—Scratch that. Ron says forget whatever he said, and please don't kick his ass for insulting your ex-wife._


	13. Single White Idiot

_**Disclaimer:** It's still a Sue-fic, people! JKR. Not mine. Got it?_

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**Chapter Thirteen: Single White Idiot**

January came and went with no more mid-afternoon escapades from me or Harry (after a tongue lashing from Hermione and a "why-didn't-you-ask-me" from Ron). The four of us settled into the end of January and the beginning of February by getting ready for our O.W.L.s every evening and occasionally finding an hour or two just to chill out in the common room. Malfoy's little business endeavor never did pan out and Harry and I were on good terms again after our little weirdness. Before any of us realized it, the middle of February was upon us and so was another Hogsmeade weekend. Not just any weekend—Valentine's Day weekend. The Friday nights before a Hogsmeade weekend were always filled with talks about what to do in town, who would be going with who, and other assorted gossip. That was idle chitchat compared to the storm Hermione and I walked into the night before Valentine's Day.

"Oooh! Hermione, you're going with Ron, right?" Lavender Brown exclaimed from her bed.

Hermione and I had barely gotten into the room before the wave of girlish whimsy hit us full force. Lavender and Parvati Patil were hunched over Lavender's bed over what appeared to be a pile of clothes and were giggling like—well—schoolgirls. Hermione looked at me and arched an eyebrow. We were getting fairly adept at reading each other's minds—like now when she was saying, _"Do we have a whole night of this?"_ I laughed as she flung her books onto her bed.

"I assume you're talking about V-day plans?" I asked.

"Of course!" Parvati rolled her eyes, "So what about it, Hermione? Are you and Ron…" she trailed off.

"We're spending part of the day together, yes." Hermione answered, but didn't look up. I could tell she was blushing without even looking at her. Things between her and Ron had been—shall we say, "heating up"—the last few months. I think the kicker was when they were pounced on by Peeves one evening as they were leaving the library hand in hand. I hadn't been able to get all the details, but I did find that a tangled tapestry and large quantities of water had been involved. I think they'd begun to feel like they were neglecting Harry because lately they'd been hanging around the common room more often. Ron and Harry had been spending more time together, which had left Hermione and me with "girl time"—however, with Hermione, it always turned into "study time".

"Do you guys have dates?" I asked as I slid into my flannel pajamas.

Giggles ensued. "Parvati is going with Dean Thomas and I'm going with Justin Finch-Fletchley. What about you, Reggie?" Lavender asked.

Hermione tied her hair up into a loose ponytail as she stepped over near the basin to wash her face. She turned to me for a moment and grinned, "Yes, Reggie—what are your plans for tomorrow?"

I smirked and stuck out my tongue as I pushed a bandana over my brow to keep my bangs away. I was hoping my sarcasm would keep the vultures at bay long enough for me to come up with an excuse. Finding a date hadn't even occurred to me until we'd stepped into the room. _You don't really believe that, do you?_ My mind was still pointing and laughing at me—it was a lie. Harry hadn't mentioned anything about the weekend even after Ron had told him that he and Hermione were spending part of the day together. Oh, sure we were all supposed to meet up later that day and hang out, but it still left that big gap of time—nearly four hours for Harry and I to wallow in our single status. _But at least you can wallow together, _I told myself. _Does wallowing make a date? You can be miserable on a date—can't you?_

"Well, Reg?" Parvati asked, breaking my train of thought, "Are you and Harry going out?"

"Huh? Oh! No!" I exclaimed. It sounded forced even as I said it, "I mean, we're hanging out—at least I think we are, but it's not a date thing. More of a moral support thing—showing up single together, ya know?" _You're babbling again, moron!_

"I thought Harry was going with Cho," Lavender commented.

I choked on my toothbrush, which made Hermione stifle another giggle at my expense. The comment caught me by surprise because Harry hadn't said anything about his plans for tomorrow. I thought we were still getting together—come to think of it we hadn't actually made our plans solid.

"Yeah, hang on a minute." I spit out into the basin and wiped my mouth, "Lemme ask him quick." I strode out the door and made my way down the stairs.

It was well after midnight and when Hermione and I had left we (plus Harry and Ron) were the only ones still down in the common room. I was just coming around to the end of the winding staircase when I caught a snippet of conversation.

"So are you and Reggie…" Ron trailed off.

"I don't know, Ron," Harry muttered, "I mean, we're supposed to get together tomorrow and hang out, but I don't think it's a date. I mean, I don't think."

_Jesus, he sounds worse than I do._

"What about you and Hermione?"

"Well, we're just going to walk around the shops, I think. Maybe stop in the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer—maybe lunch. You guys should come!"

"It's your date, Ron. I don't think Hermione would be too happy with you if we tagged along."

"It's Hermione!"

"Exactly."

"Alright, so what are you and Reggie gonna do all afternoon by yourselves?"

Harry was silent. He was as dumbstruck as I was. This could've been the opportune moment to slide nonchalantly into the room and ask if we were hanging out tomorrow—re-establish the whole "we're-hanging-out-as-friends-and-nothing-more" plan. _What if it really were a date tomorrow…would that be so bad?_ Harry and I had been friends since the moment we'd met on the Hogwarts Express—together we'd served detention, played pranks, and cut classes. His friendship had come to be one of the few stabilities in my life—you just don't think of your friends in that way. _Ron and Hermione do._ Well, they were the exception to the rule. Somehow, they'd managed to tread that shaky ground between dating and friendship and had survived thus far, but I wasn't ready to take that chance with Harry. _Just go out there and ask if he still wants to hang out tomorrow. Ask about Zonkos! Ask about—_

"Reggie?"

I screamed and fell down the last few steps, landing flat on my back at the bottom of the stairs. Looking up, I could see Hermione clasp her hand to her mouth in something of horror and amusement. At least someone thought it was remotely funny—I couldn't feel my legs.

"Reg, are you okay?" Ron and Harry sprang up from their chairs by the fireplace and were over beside me. They at least had the decency to look concerned.

I winced as I sat up, "Yeah. Fine. Ow." I pushed myself up to my feet, "I was just coming down to see if—"

"We're still on for tomorrow? Yeah," Harry said, offering an arm for me to lean on, "Hogsmeade, right?"

"Yeah," I muttered. I leaned on him for a moment getting my balance back. I out of the corner of my eye I could see Ron and Hermione exchanging a smirk. I wanted to smack it off their faces, but the throbbing pain in my lower back distracted me too much to take aim.

"Graceful, as always, Reg." Ron laughed.

"Shut up," I smirked.

"Did you want to grab lunch down in Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Harry asked.

I looked over at him, as I finally stood on my own. His face looked flushed, but I had a sneaking suspicion that didn't have anything to do with being near the fireplace. His eyes were shifting between the floor and my face while his mouth kept twitching with a nervous smile._ Yes. Say yes. SAY YES, STUPID!_

"Y-yes." I finally stuttered, "I mean, yeah, that sounds good." I started fidgeting with the edge of my t-shirt.

"Okay. How about we meet down by the Great Hall tomorrow. Say noon?" Harry smiled.

"Sure. It's a—plan." _You wanted to say date. Admit it._

"Okay, then. Now that you two are settled," Hermione grabbed my arm and started dragging me back up the stairs, "We'll see you both tomorrow!"

I barely had a chance to wave goodnight to Harry and Ron before Hermione had flown up the stairs and hurled me back into the room. Lavender and Parvati were still hunched over the bed, but looked up as we made our grand entrance.

"So what happened?" Lavender squealed.

"They have a date," Hermione said, grinning at me.

"We do not," I muttered as I walked over to my bed, "We're just meeting up to have lunch tomorrow."

"What are you going to wear?" Parvati chimed in.

"I dunno. Clothes," I said, "The usual jeans and t-shirt."

"No no no," Hermione said. She crossed the room and dragged me to my feet again, "We're going to have to do something about your outfit tomorrow. You can't go on a date—"

"I'm not going on a date with Harry!"

"—Looking like, well, you." Hermione finished, smirking at her little comment.

"Ha ha," I said as I rolled my eyes.

"Reg, seriously. He's meeting you tomorrow." Hermione said.

"Yeah."

"For lunch."

"So?"

"He asked to meet you on Valentine's Day to go into town for lunch."

"Duh."

"Just the two of you."

"Ummm…yeah."

"Alone."

_Crap._


	14. The Kiss of Death

_**Disclaimer: **JKR. Not Mine. Got it?_

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****Chapter Fourteen: The Kiss of Death**

Needless to say, sleep didn't come easy that night. My conversations with the girls and Harry rolled around in my brain until I drifted off somewhere around 3am. I dreamed that I was late meeting Harry in Hogsmeade because other students kept running up to me asking why I couldn't find Harry, but everyone seemed to know where he was and wouldn't tell me. I finally managed to make it into the village, but I ran into Harry with Cho and neither one seemed to know who the hell I was. Just then, Malfoy showed up snickering, "Who would remember a trippy little Yank like you?" before dumping a steaming cauldron over my head. I woke up with a start around 7am and never quite fell back asleep.

Around 9am was when the dorm started waking. Fortunately, I had the foresight to get in and showered before Lavender and Parvati woke up. Sure enough, the two of them proceeded to hole themselves up in the bathroom for the next hour while Hermione combed through my wardrobe.

"I absolutely refuse to wear anything remotely bordering on red," I said defiantly. I yawned and leaned over the end of my bed where Hermione was pouring over the contents of my trunk. She was already showered and dressed in jeans and a ribbed, powder blue sweater. Her hair didn't look as bushy as normal and was tied back in a loose ponytail. As she looked up I could see she was wearing makeup, which I'd never seen on her before.

"I didn't think you would," Hermione replied, "You seem to be quite the anti-Valentine."

"Single's Awareness Day, I prefer to call it," I said, "I have a black sweater balled up somewhere in the bottom."

"You're not wearing some wrinkled sweater!" Hermione cried. A look of triumph appeared on her face as she held something up, "There! This will work!" She was holding up a blue-green, cable knit sweater that I didn't even remember packing in my trunk. I suddenly remembered that it was a hand-me-down from Aunt Sarah.

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't want to wear that! It's old! And it has color."

"It'd be a good color on you! It'd go with your hair!"

"Which hair?" I replied. My color job was well past faded and the blonde highlights from the beginning of the year were nearly gone. My hair was dark brown and plain—for the first time in years there wasn't any dye residue on my pillows anymore.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and threw the sweater at me. "You'd better get dressed. We're all going pretty soon."

I slid the sweater over my head, tied my hair back and looked in the mirror. _It's not a date. It's not a date._ _It's not a date—especially if you show up looking like that._ My eyes were puffy as a testament to my restless night and my hair hadn't quite dried completely yet. After accidentally setting my head on fire two years ago I'd given up on using my wand to dry myself and my hair dryer couldn't work on Hogwarts grounds. I sighed and turned to my trunk—_a little bit of makeup couldn't hurt_, I told myself. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen or used eye shadow or lip-gloss. _If you dress up then he might think it's supposed to be a date—but what if it's not and then you just make him feel awkward then the two of you end up not speaking for the rest of the year? And what if—_

"Reg, are you going to stand over your trunk all day or what?" Hermione barked, snapping me out of the land of delusion. I hauled my makeup bag out of my trunk and settled myself near the mirror.

"Gimme a minute," I muttered, and rummaged for the most neutral colors I could find.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione and I came trotting down the stairs slightly more graceful than the previous night. I knew we had probably missed breakfast, but we started down towards the Great Hall anyways.

"Where's Ron meeting you?" I asked as we stepped through the Fat Lady.

"Oh, down near the lake," Hermione replied somewhat dreamily. I'd never know for Hermione to reply dreamily about anything, but it was V-day and anything was possible. The sudden image of Snape parading around the castle in red robes handing out valentines popped into my head for no reason. _Okay, maybe not everything._ What was it about holidays bringing out the ridiculous nature in all of us? What idiot came up with a holiday built solely on the grounds of finding self-validation by means of dating—that by being alone on this particular day made you some kind of social leper that needed pity or worse, "hooked up"? It was all I could do to keep myself from sprinting in the other direction as Hermione and I parted ways near the large marble staircase that led down to the Great Hall.

_You're just hanging out…just a couple of single idiots hanging out in Hogsmeade. On Valentines Day. Alone. _Even my own brain was starting to play games with me. I took a deep breath as I made my way down the stairs and towards the doors. He wasn't looking up at the staircase as I came down so it gave me a chance to take him in before he saw me. Harry was wearing jeans and a dark green sweater that actually fit him (not a hand-me-down from his blimp of a cousin). _Aww…no flowers. Shut up, brain, or I'll stab you with a Q-tip!_

"Hey," I said as I reached the landing. Harry jumped slightly like he hadn't been expecting anyone to come up.

"Hey, Reg. Ready?" Harry said. He was definitely calm, cool, and collected about everything as he smiled at me. _Not a date, definitely, _I told myself. I started to feel a wave of relief wash over me, but it quickly became a chill as Harry pushed himself off the pillar he'd been leaning against and went crashing to the floor.

"Harry!"

"I'm fine," Harry laughed, shakily. When he got to his feet I could tell he was a little flushed—from embarrassment or nerves, I couldn't tell which. He straightened his clothes and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "Still ready?"

I just grinned like an idiot, "As I'll ever be." _Stupid…stupid…stupid!_

For the next two hours, Harry and I proceeded to take Hogsmeade and the school grounds by storm. Firstly, we saw Ron and Hermione from a distance holding hands as they strolled around the lake. Under normal circumstances we probably would've snickered and chucked a few snowballs at them, but today things were different. We talked about the looming O.W.L.s and our summer plans as we made our way across the snow-laden grounds down towards Hogsmeade. The weather was actually nicer than we'd expected and the snow was even beginning to melt in a few patches. The whole way down we saw other students—some on individual dates, some in groups, and some just meandering on their own. Every so often I caught a few glances in our direction—I didn't know whether to roll my eyes or make to poke out theirs, but at least the whispering was kept to a minimum. We joked with each other as we made our way through Zonko's comparing their products to those of the Weasley twins (no comparison). We stopped into Dervish and Banges to pick up some Potion class supplies and then it was onward to Honeydukes where I proceeded to drool like a toddler over a mountain of White Chocolate Frogs that had just come in—cream-filled, no less. Having spent the last of my allotted funds at Gladrags on some fabric scraps (I'd since taken to making my own headbands since my funky jewelry was, in essence, banned) Harry secretly paid for a handful of the Frogs and split them with me once we'd left the store. I'd even forgotten that it was Valentine's Day—it was just another Hogsmeade weekend with my friend—until we decided to grab a butterbeer before heading back to school.

"I'll pay you back, I swear," I muttered. My mouth was filled with White Chocolate Frog, part of which oozed slightly down my mouth as I tried to speak. After the three hours we'd spent roaming Hogsmeade like friends and not dates I'd left all notions of appropriate behavior.

Harry just laughed at my state as we made our way into the Three Broomsticks. A rush of warm air greeted us first—then a wave of nausea second. Nearly every table was full of Hogwarts students in various stages of either dating, making out, or both. The older folks that were dating were mostly huddled in a corner by the fire looking sullenly into their mugs and muttering to themselves. I didn't know whether to laugh or hurl—apparently neither did Harry. We managed to squeeze our way to the bar to order a couple of butterbeers before taking a table by the window that just opened up.

"Little crowded today, huh?" I laughed.

"Yeah," Harry replied, looking around. He rolled the bottom of his bottle along the table idly. I followed his gaze along the many tables and realized that this was a bad idea._ Ug, too romantic._

"Soooo…"I sighed, "Was there anything else you wanted to do today before we meet up with Ron and Hermione?"

"Not really," Harry said, "There's nothing else I really need."

We sat in silence for a few minutes not looking at each other. Our gazes shifted from the window to the people inside to our own bottles rolling on the table—anywhere but each other. It was obvious that we'd entered into a realm we weren't ready for that day—_the difference between day out and date._ We'd been fine when we'd been on our own shopping, but as soon as we found ourselves among peers again everything changed—they were imposing their social beliefs on us. _You two should be on a date! You should be holding hands! Damn you! Damn you all to hell!_

Harry cleared his throat suddenly, which ripped me back to our current predicament. The question was, which one of us was going to ask first.

"So are we on a date or what?" Harry asked, finally looking me in the eyes.

_Well, that answers that…_

"I mean, I wasn't sure when I asked you in the common room last night if we were actually meeting as a date or just to hang out—and then all day today we've had a blast, but I didn't want to ask because—"

"—Because you didn't want to make things weird." I finished.

Harry grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, exactly. So…"

For once, I was at a complete loss of words. Harry and I were on the same page—what that page was I had no idea, but at least we were there together. There was only one question that could clear everything up.

"So, _is_ this a date?" I asked.

Harry shrugged and turned a deeper shade of red. Obviously, that was the wrong way to phrase the question.

"Okay…lemme ask this. Do you like me Harry?"

The redness intensified and I suddenly felt the urge to throw myself through the window. I had asked the un-askable and now I would have to pay with my dignity or my friendship. _All hands brace for impact,_ my brain shouted.

"I don't know…"

Okay, so it wasn't quite the response I had been expecting, but it could've been worse. At least it wasn't "Yes, madly!" or dumped butterbeer on my head as he ran laughing from the bar. This meant there was hope—or a delay in the inevitable.

"I mean—that came out wrong…I like you, Reg—"

_Oh. Christ._

"—But I just don't know if it's just like a friend or more. I mean, I have the best time with you. I don't know if you feel the same—"

"Yes!" I interrupted so enthusiastically that several heads turned. I felt my face go warm. _God, this is awkward—that's an understatement._ My inner monologue had suddenly split into two voices and was bickering at me and each other. Now on top of dealing with my own swirling emotions I had multiple personalities to deal with. _Wee._

"I mean," I continued, " I had—well, I've always had—a great time with you, too." _Smooth._ "—But I was just afraid that we'd—"

"—Ruin our friendship?" Harry finished.

"And they say men and women can't communicate." I joked, trying desperately to relieve the building anxiety. "Yeah, exactly. I didn't want to jinx it—our friendship, I mean."

"So…do you…like…me?" Harry asked.

If my head could've burst into flames it would have. _Why does this have to be so complicated? Ah, the great life question—the complexities of life and love—brought to by the letter "C" for "Christ Almighty"._ I did like Harry, but just how even I didn't know. He was my best friend at Hogwarts—hell, my best friend, period. I hadn't thought of us in a romantic context until all this V-day crap happened and now I didn't know what to think. _Can you actually see yourself kissing Harry? Hmmm…good question._

What happened next I can't begin to explain. It was like my brain had turned off and someone (or thing) had possessed me. Without warning I leaned across the table and kissed him. It caught Harry even more off guard—both his hands flew off the table in shock and his eyes went as big as hubcaps. After a few seconds, I pulled myself back into my chair and stared at him. His mouth was hanging open in shock

Harry blinked for a moment. "What—the—hell—"

My mind and my body became one and the same again and before I could do anything else stupid I suddenly sprang out of my seat and bolted for the door.

"Reggie!"

I sprinted down Main Street knocking over fellow pedestrians and sliding in the melting snow as I went. I didn't know if Harry was behind me and quite frankly, I didn't give a crap. I needed to get back to Hogwarts—back to my bed—back to sleep where surely I would wake up tomorrow and this will have all been some twisted dream. It wasn't until I'd reached the stone archway that I gave a cry.

"Regina Anne Bradshaw you are the world's biggest idiot!" I screamed. I pounded my fists against the wall and kicked at it—as if attacking the castle would somehow make the rancid feeling in my stomach go away.

"I…don't know…I've seen…bigger idiots…" a voice panted behind me.

I spun around and found myself face to face with a very red-faced Harry. He had clearly sprinted behind me the whole way up. He was wearing a half grin as he tried to catch his breath.

"Harry, I'm so—"

"Forget it," Harry said, finally standing up straight.

"Forget what! I was totally out of line!" I spun around to escape into the castle, but Harry grabbed my sleeve before I could run again.

"No, Reg! Will you just hang on for a minute?" Harry said in an exasperated tone.

I huffed and turned back. "Alright, but say it quick. It'll take me awhile to climb the North Tower so I can throw myself off it. As long as it's still light Hagrid should be able to mop up my remains…"

Harry shook his head, "You're impossible sometimes, do you know that?"

"Is this your idea of a pick me up?" I asked.

"Look, you didn't give me a chance to say anything after—well, back there." I winced as he spoke, "—But now that you've stopped running like an idiot we can talk about it."

I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, "Look, Harry. I just…did it…without thinking, like I do everything else. I didn't know what I was doing, but…" I trailed off. _Why can't I run off and lament like a normal teenager right now?_

"Was it that bad?" Harry asked.

"No." I muttered and looked up at him as I kicked at a lump of snow, "You could stop grinning like an idiot at me, you know."

"I've just never seen you so worked up over anything," Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, well…you should see me at a Yankee's game," I muttered, but a smile was spreading across my face. I looked from the ground back to Harry's face. There wasn't anger, resentment, or confusion—it was Harry looking at me as he'd always done. Like I was crazy, but he was sticking around anyways.

"Are we gonna be alright?" He asked.

I sighed, "Yeah, I guess."

"You're not expecting flowers from me or anything?"

"Do you _want_ me to hex you?"

Harry laughed, "We definitely couldn't date."

"And why is that, Mr. Potter?" I asked, my sarcastic tone slowly creeping in.

"You're way too neurotic for me."

We proceeded to pelt snowballs at each other for twenty minutes.

Later that night, Ron and Hermione finally caught up with us in the common room. We all shared our days, but neither Harry nor I discussed our ordeal at the Three Broomsticks. It was something we would carry to our graves—a conditioned we'd settled on after our little snow war. We had tested the relationship waters and survived in tact—a feat few could boast—and if anything our friendship seemed stronger. Harry was snapping back with biting sarcasm of his own and we even joked about picking china patterns. I retorted by chucking a pillow cushion at him.

Finally, around 1am, we started getting tired enough to make our ways to bed. Hermione and I trudged up the stairs to find Lavender and Parvati already sleeping. We quietly slipped into our pajamas and made our way to the washroom where Hermione finally cornered me.

"Well?" she demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "You got me Hermione. He proposed and I'm having his baby."

Hermione choked on her toothbrush. Now it was my turn to stifle a laugh. "I'm kidding, Hermione. It wasn't a date."

"Really?" she said after spitting into the sink, "Because that's not what Ron and I heard."

"Really?" Now it was my turn to sound skeptical, "And what did you and Ron hear?"

"Oh, we just heard about your little public display of affection in the Three Broomsticks." She smiled, "Reg, _everyone_ was there. Did you really think that you and Harry could just cover it up and pretend it didn't happen?"

I stuck my tongue out at her, "Oh, boo hoo. We already talked about it—we're cool."

"And?"

We were back in the main room again and slipping under the covers, but Hermione sat straight up in bed waiting for an answer. I settled myself under the covers and turned to her.

"It means we're still friends. Only friends. Period." I stated.

"Alright then," Hermione said. I turned over and lay on my pillow. "Friends who kiss." Hermione hissed into the night.

"Shut up." I hissed back.

I couldn't help but smile.


	15. Birthday Surprises

_Wow...it certainly took me awhile to get back here, didn't it? It wasn't until I got a few reviews that I remembered I hadn't finished this story yet! Ack! Real life has that way of taking over and squeezing the life out of you until you have to focus all creative engergies into making yourself breathe in and out everyday. Or maybe that's just me. At any rate, I finished chapter 19 and went ahead with posting chapters 15 through 19 at once. I won't speculate on when I'll have 20 up because I will inevitably miss that deadline. _

_Thanks for those who reviewed...and especially those who have hung in as long as you have to see this story finished. :)_

_**Disclaimer:** JKR...not mine. Got it?_

_**Warning:** If you haven't realized by now that this is a Mary Sue fic then you deserver your torment. Kthxbye._

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**_Chapter Fifteen: Birthday Surprises_**

The Valentine's Day Emotional Massacre came and went with only a few mummers about the course of events at the Three Broomsticks. Harry and I took them in stride and took great amusement in making people think we were a couple—staging fake fights and the like. Harry took to calling me "dear" on occasion—I reciprocated by calling him "dumbass". It was all in the name of fun.

Two weeks flew by and it was March before we knew it—more importantly, it was March 1st and Ron's birthday. The last few years, it turned out, didn't really allow for much celebration. There was the stone thingie, a giant man-eating snake, and an escaped murderer…those things tend to take the life out of a party. It was all Harry and Hermione's idea and Fred, George, Ginny, and I were all ready to help. By the time we actually got plans together we'd managed to get all the Gryffindor 5th years plus the Quidditch team to pitch in with arrangements.

By the evening of Ron's birthday we had everything figured out. Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny would all be busy at Quidditch practice. This left ample time for the rest of us to decorate the common room and get the food—and that meant a trip to the kitchens. Hermione and I decided to get the food and left the rest of Gryffindor to finish with the streamers and balloons, however even as we left we could hear Neville give a yelp. I smiled to myself—I had bet Hermione a Knut that Neville would be bound in streamers and hung up by the time we got back.

"You haven't been to the kitchens before, have you?" Hermione asked as we stepped through the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Nope," I replied, but inwardly I was rolling my eyes. Harry had warned me that Hermione would go on and on about the plight of the house-elves. I hadn't even actually seen a house-elf since I'd gotten to Hogwarts, which was one of the reasons I'd volunteered to get the food. From Harry's description of one named Dobby they sounded like overgrown rats that liked to carry trays and bang themselves into walls.

We were nearly down to the Great Hall and Hermione hadn't stopped jabbering the whole way. I heard something along the lines of "—Blah, blah, blah…servants…blah, blah, blah…atrocious…", but I wasn't really paying attention. We had passed the Great Hall and were well on our way through the dungeon level. I had to suppress a shudder at the though of running into Snape while we were down here—I swore to myself thinking that I should have taken the Marauders Map from Harry as a precaution. _Live and learn…and then get detention._ I was making a mental food list in my head when Hermione stopped suddenly in front of a large painting.

"Uh, Hermione?" I asked. She didn't skip a beat of her "Save the House-Elf" speech as she reached out and poked at a giant pear in the painting. I had to do a double take because the pear actually started laughing and then slowly began to twitch and swing open. She stepped through and I followed suit—and nearly fell over.

Dozens upon dozens of small, batty-eared creatures were running around the room. For a minute it felt like being in a beehive as they chattered away with a high-pitched voice as pairs of large, luminous eyes scurried to and fro. Nobody—or no _thing_—had seemed to notice our presence…or so I thought until one of the little buggers sauntered right up to us.

"Miss! Miss!"

Hermione and I looked down into two huge green eyes the size of tennis balls. He (or she—I had no idea how to tell) had a long thin nose and didn't look like he'd be taller than my waist.

"Hello, Dobby!" Hermione exclaimed as she bent down to give a small hug to an equally small house-elf. "How are you?"

"Very well, Miss! Very well! Dobby has been wanting to visit you, Wheezy, and Harry Potter for a long time—"

"Wheezy?" I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.

"Ron," Hermione muttered back.

"—And here you have come to Dobby!" Dobby began to strain to look around us.

"Oh, they couldn't come, Dobby. They had Quidditch practice, but I brought a friend of ours. Dobby, I'd like you to meet Regina Bradshaw. Reggie, this is Dobby." Hermione was beaming, like she was introducing the Queen herself.

I reached out to shake Dobby's hand, but instead he bowed so low that his long nose touched the floor. I shot Hermione a look of confusion, but she was simply looking down at Dobby with something of pity.

"Oh, Dobby, you don't have to—" Hermione began, but Dobby cut her off

"An honor it is to meet Miss Bradshaw! We have heard much about you!"

I glanced over at Hermione, but she looked as dumbstruck as I was. "Uh, how is it you know about me?"

"We house-elves live very near the dungeons. Always hearing Professor Snape muttering about Miss Bradshaw." Dobby said, still grinning.

I rolled my eyes. "Great, well I hope you didn't pay too much attention. I assure you I'm not as horrible as he makes me out to be." Hermione opened her mouth, but I held up a hand to stop her from contradicting me. _Never scare or piss off the people who prepare your food_, Uncle Jack said to me a while back.

"So, Dobby," I continued, "I hear that this is the place to go when you need some grub."

Dobby grinned even more and nodded. Hermione was casting a reproachful look, but I tried to pay her no mind. Dobby looked up at me with his huge eyes shining, "Oh, yes, Miss! Yes, indeed!" Several of the other house-elves had apparently heard my request and were now gathering around us anxiously, all wearing that same eager expression as Dobby.

"Er—okay," I cleared my throat and glanced at Hermione, "We need some party food—it's for Ron's birthday party."

Before I had even finished explaining who it was for several of the little bat-like creatures had scattered and were busily piling trays and pitchers full of food and drinks. They didn't look put out at the request at all—in fact, they seemed excited to do it.

" I think it's horrible," Hermione muttered, "the way that they're forced to wait on wizards hand and foot. It's disgusting."

"This is awesome!" I exclaimed, paying no attention to Hermione's glare. It was like Oompa Loompas had come to Hogwarts—only they'd mutated into strange bat-creatures with squeaky voices. They all seemed nice enough despite Hermione's ranting about the downtrodden house-elf. I watched them while smiling in awe—dozens of packages suddenly came bounding up towards us.

"Think this'll be enough?" I grunted under the weight of several boxes.

"Dobby could help carry them, Misses!" Dobby piped up. I glanced around the tower in my arms and grinned.

"That's alright, Dobby. We'll manage!" Hermione replied. She shot me a look that I'm sure meant _we are NOT asking them for anything else!_ I sighed—it was a long trip back up.

After having to refuse several more trays of food and shaking off Dobby's vice-like hug, we were ambling towards the stairs. Hermione was managing fine—I however…

"ACK!" I tripped over the first staircase that lead out of the dungeons. Boxes went scattering to the floor and snacks flew everywhere. I meanwhile, landed on my knees and managed to scrape both my palms.

"Reg, are you okay?" Hermione gasped. She spun around from a few steps ahead so abruptly that several of the boxes shifted unstably.

"Ow. Yeah," I muttered. I winced and turned over to survey the damage then groaned, "Crap! It's everywhere."

"Hang on, I'll help," Hermione said and began to make her way back down.

"No, that's alright. You'd better get up there. Ron and the others will be getting back from practice soon and everyone will want the snacks. Go ahead—I'll just be behind you." I said as I began picking up biscuits from the floor.

"All right. Just don't be too long—it's almost curfew and you're awfully close to Snape's office." Hermione warned. She turned back up the stairs and re-balanced the food in her arms.

I muttered to myself as I scooped up cookies and rolls, blowing some dust off them as I went along. _Eh, what they don't know won't hurt them._ The thought was tempting to just go back to the kitchen and ask for some more food but it was nearly nine and Hermione's warning was ringing in my ear—as well as those footsteps. _Wait—FOOTSTEPS! _The box full of chicken in my hands fell to the floor as I listened—those were definitely footsteps and they were definitely coming my way.

I jerked my head from one side of the hall to the other—a staircase and a suit of armor. _Damn it!_ I tried to scoop what boxes hadn't fallen apart into my arms while kicking the rest into the shadows. _Click…click…click._ There was something very familiar about that pace…

"Snape!" I whispered to myself frantically. I continued to search hopelessly for a hiding spot—then it appeared. A tapestry behind the suit of armor fell all the way to the floor. I bolted over towards it just as the footsteps came closer. No sooner had I ducked behind the drape than that all-familiar, all-hated, tall dark figure came lurking into the hallway.

"Professor, there you are!" another voice called.

Snape spun around abruptly several feet away from where I was hiding. What had at first been bumbling panic was now turning into unadulterated fear—that other voice belonged to Professor McGonagall. The two teachers who single-handedly made me the Hogwarts detention-holding champion—here…standing 5 feet away from me in the dungeons at curfew with my arms full of illegal foods. I mouthed words that would make Peeves blush as I listened in.

"Something I can assist you with, Professor?" Snape replied dryly.

"Actually, I was coming to ask for a favor, Severus. It seems that repellant you gave me to keep animal dropping from sticking to surfaces doesn't work so well when the animal is—well—blown up." said McGonagall.

"Let me guess. Longbottom?"

"He was practicing in there this evening and there are rat parts all over the classroom. I managed to get most of it with a quick scourfiying spell, but the rest—"

"I have some in my office," Snape said, "I was just on my way there now when—" he stopped short. I stopped breathing as I heard him began to sniff, "Is that chicken?"

I gulped and looked down at my robes—in my haste to find hiding I had shoved two chicken breasts into my pockets and shoved the rest into the corner.

"We're right next to the kitchen, Severus," McGonagall said. Summoning what stupidity and courage I had left I peeked around the edge of the curtain to see the two of them. McGonagall was shrugging, but Snape was looking around as if expecting to catch someone. _Oh, hell._ It had finally caught my eye—a box lying just to Snape's right, barely hidden by the shadows. From the look of what was leaking from the bottom I knew it was one of the cream pies Dobby had unloaded on us. I winced—if Snape found that box not only would it mean trouble for Dobby and the other house-elves, but I knew exactly who Snape would go to find the food. I had gotten Ron some Sickles and Chudley Cannons poster for a present—I didn't want to give him a detention as well.

"True," Snape muttered, "but shortly before you found me I heard voices down this hallway. Student voices."

_Damn, damn, damn!_ I was mentally screaming at myself—if Snape found that pie I was done for. I glanced back at the box and thought quickly—if he turned around I might have a chance at summoning the box in enough time. But only if he moved.

"Honestly, Severus! Do you really think that there are students lurking behind every corner waiting to pounce on you? It's Friday, for Merlin's sake—I'm sure they have more pressing engagements that do not involve the dungeons." McGonagall said.

In my panicked state I had to stifle a laugh. Professor McGonagall was having a go at Snape's paranoia. As infuriating as I found her to be sometimes I had to admit that I liked McGonagall's dry sense of humor. _You go girl!_

"Amusing, Minerva. I will bring the potion up to your office later this evening if it's convenient for you." Snape replied, slightly smirking.

"That will be fine, thank you, Severus." McGonagall nodded and turned up to the staircase.

That's when it happened. At some point in your life you have that one moment (or several) when you let yourself feel more secure than you should. I should've waited to hear two sets of footsteps moving away from the stairs. I should've peeked around the tapestry to make sure I was alone. For God's sake, I should've physically gotten out from my hiding spot and dealt with it manually instead of magically. But when have I _ever_ used one ounce of common sense? Why would today be any different? That's why when I opened my mouth first and looked up second I knew I had uttered the words to my own death sentence.

_"Accio pie!" _I hissed. My hissing didn't go unnoticed because next thing I knew Snape had whipped around and was lunging towards the tapestry.

Unfortunately, the pie reached him before me.

I closed my eyes as Snape howled—the creamy pie goodness had smacked him square in the face.

"Severus, what in Merlin's name—" McGonagall was shrieking and brandishing her wand as she came tearing back down the stairs. She stopped short as she came to us. Me—my wand still extended in attempt to summon the pie—and Snape—who's face was covered in chocolate cream. Slowly, I reached out with my other hand and pulled back the tapestry—smiling sheepishly. Her mouth hung open for shock for a moment, "What—in—" she looked from Snape to me, the sides of her mouth twitching.

"I—I—I—" I stammered. I ran through the list of rehearsed apologies in my head, but I'd never practiced one in case I smacked one of my teachers with baked goods. It was hard to think of something to say while my entire life was flashing in front of my eyes. "Accident…p-pie…p-party. S-s-sorry…don't k-kill m-me…" I was blubbering.

Even through the pie drippings I could see Snape's face go a shade of red I didn't think humanly possible. His eyes were wide and had a crazy glint as he pointed a shaking finger at me.

"_You."_

I dropped the boxes I had been holding in my other arm and pieces of broken cookies went scattering to the floor. I jumped as I suddenly felt pressure on my right arm. I jerked my head to see McGonagall staring at Snape, but speaking very calmly to me, "Miss Bradshaw, I will see you for detention in my office Monday evening." Her voice was shaking—not with rage, but as if she were fighting off gut-wrenching laughter.

"_You—"_ Snape hissed again, this time reaching for me.

"Miss Bradshaw, I think it's best if you go now." McGonagall choked out.

"ImsorryprofessorI'llseeyouonMondaygoodnight!" I shouted, then took off—two steps at a time—and didn't stop until I reached the Fat Lady's portrait. Of course, even from two stories away I heard Snape screaming and McGonagall howling with laughter.

As I stepped through the portrait the sounds of the party did little to squelch the sickening feeling in my stomach. I had pied the most feared teacher in Hogwarts.

"Reggie!" Hermione cried as I flopped down into a chair, "What happened? We've been waiting for…" she trailed off.

"Reg?" Harry asked, his mouth half full with cake. Ron was behind him, eying me suspiciously as well.

"Have you been in the mickey?" Ron asked, grinning, "bring any back?"

"I hit Snape," I muttered, not looking away from the fireplace.

"WHAT!" All three yelled. The entire common room went dead silent. Plates clinked and a single student coughed, but all eyes were fixed on the booming question. It was one of those eerily quite moments that you see in the movies when someone makes a shocking revelation. Kinda like that.

"What happened?" Fred asked, removing one of his invisible hats.

"I…hit…Snape," I said again. There were several gasps, "…with a pie," I finished.

The silence was deafening as I looked up at Harry and Ron, "It was chocolate…but I didn't bring it. He was wearing it…and…it made it hard…" I had no control over my own vocabulary at that point.

The silence lasted about 2 more seconds before the entire room burst out in laughter. Fred and George were on the floor while Harry and Ron were leaning on chairs to keep from falling themselves. Hermione was simply looking at me with the same look of shock that I was wearing.

"You hit Snape?" she whispered.

"With a pie." I replied. I looked up at her and shook my head, "All I said was _'Accio pie'_ and…" I flayed my arm towards the fire.

Hermione sat down on the arm next to me and patted my hand, "It's all right. He can't have you expelled, but you might get—"

"—Detention. McGonagall. She was there." I muttered.

"Wait! Wait!" Ron howled, wiping a tear from his eye, "McGonagall was there too? She saw Snape? Covered in pie?" I nodded dumbly sending another wave of howling laughter rolling through the common room.

I buried my head in my hands. Under normal circumstances, I probably would've been dancing on the tables doing pie-covered Snape impersonations, but this time it was different. I loathed Snape and I thought him to be a truly despicable man, but something about having humiliated someone who's opinion I held in high esteem (for some ungodly reason unknown to me) had sucked all the joy out of the occasion. Besides, Snape didn't seem to be the kind of person to just wipe his face with a hanky and say "Oh, well. Shit happens". I knew what I had to do now—never sleep for the rest of my life and put protective wards around myself from now until when I graduated Hogwarts. I wondered if Uncle Jack would send me a bodyguard if I asked for one for my birthday. I was so caught up in my own self-misery that I hadn't notice the party go quiet again or heard McGonagall calling for me.

"Miss Bradshaw!" McGonagall snapped again.

I jumped out of my chair so abruptly that Hermione went crashing to the ground. "Yes, ma'am." I squeaked.

"A word outside, if you please?" She gestured towards the outside hallway.

I gulped and cast a panicked look towards Hermione, Ron, and Harry, each of them looking worried. _Well, you had a good run while it lasted. Maybe Hagrid will take you on as an assistant. Or you could be a bar wench at the Three Broomsticks._

"Professor, I am so sorry! I know I shouldn't have been down there and I would've stayed to clean up, but you both looked so angry and I'll just go back upstairs and pack—" I ran through it all so fast and turned to run back inside, but McGonagall caught me by the shoulder.

"What in heaven's name are you babbling about, Bradshaw?" McGonagall asked. I looked up at her and was surprised not to see blind rage, but something of amusement.

"I just assaulted a teacher," I said, "Professor Snape." She raised an eyebrow. "I hit Professor Snape with a pie." I said again.

"Miss Bradshaw, do you really expect us to expel a student over assault with bakery goods? I assure you, if we wanted to expel you it would have been for some of your more creative endeavors." McGonagall said dryly.

"So Sn—I mean, Professor Snape isn't angry?" I asked hesitantly.

"Oh, no, by all means he's furious," McGonagall assured me.

"Thank you. I feel so much better," I muttered. I rubbed my forehead, "So what happens to me now?"

"Detention for a week with me, but Professor Snape will be thinking of a suitable punishment for you as well." McGonagall said—the for the first time I saw something of a smile cross those thin lips, "Nothing morbidly painful, I assure you. It may be a bit of a trial for your dignity, but nothing I haven't see you recover from before."

I gulped again at the thought of Snape thinking of a punishment specifically for me. _Oh hell._ It would probably involve something sharp and rusty. And pointy.

"Is that all?" I whispered.

McGonagall definitely smiled, "I think that's plenty for now, Miss Bradshaw, don't you?" I nodded fiercely. "Then I suggest you go rejoin your classmates."

I turned and started to step back through the portrait. "Oh, and Miss Bradshaw," I looked back, "Tell Mr. Weasley 'Happy Birthday'" and that thin smile twitched again.

I took a deep breath, smiled, and nodded. How I had just managed to get through the last 15 minutes, I never knew, but one thing from that day forward was certain. I would forever go down as a Hogwarts legend.


	16. Explosive Consequences

_**Disclaimer: **JKR...not mine. Got it?_

_**Warning:** Sue. Mary. Bad._

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_**Chapter Sixteen: Explosive Concequences**_

Ron's 16th Birthday Party went off without a hitch—well, except the one. We ended up celebrating well into the early morning and ended up sleeping through breakfast the following Sunday. I had to stifle several fits of laughter at Ron's expense who unfortunately had been slipped many a drink into his pumpkin juice courtesy of his twin brothers, Fred and George. There is nothing more amusing, pathetic, or disturbing than watching a 16-year-old with a quasi-hangover. Needless to say, Ron spent most of the afternoon and evening in the tower and Harry, Hermione, and I stayed for support and amusement (but in my case, more of the latter).

I'd tried to spend most of the weekend not thinking about the horror that awaited me on Monday—McGonagall's detention and Snape's punishment. Of course, the minute you tell yourself _not_ to think about something is when you focus on it entirely and nothing else. Harry, Ron, and Hermione did their best to distract me with everything from homework (Hermione), to Quidditch (Harry), to holding heads over the toilet (Ron—which was the most god-awful experience), but by the time Monday evening rolled around I was already a wreck.

"Reggie, you have to eat something," Hermione pleaded, "You haven't eaten anything all day."

"That'll help when they're performing the autopsy once Snape's through with me," I muttered as I picked at my plate of chicken.

"Actually, wouldn't that help estimate a time of death?" Ron asked. He blushed quickly at the death stare from Harry and Hermione and went right back to looking at his plate.

I sighed, "I'm not even worried about McGonagall. Hell, she's old hat—I'll probably end up cleaning the room or filing scrolls or—"

"—Turned into ferret?" Harry laughed, trying to ease the tension. I smiled slightly. "Cheer up, Reg. Snape's a bastard, but he's not honestly going to kill you. Gut something unpleasant? Probably. Chop off your head and put it on a stake in front of the castle? No."

"He's right." Hermione piped up, staring down at me from across the table. "Reg, look at me." I glanced up, "You'll. Be. Fine."

"You're right…you're right," I said, "I just want to get it over with."

"Speaking of which, you'd probably better go," Ron said as food vanished from our plates, "Supper's over and McGonagall will be waiting for you." He smiled, "We'll wait up for you, Reg."

I smiled as I stood up, "Thanks, but you guys don't have to. I'll give you a full, excruciatingly detailed report in the morning." With that I gave a mock salute and marched from the hall. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Malfoy sneering at me and whispering to that cow Pansy who instantly started shrieking with laughter—no doubt about my fate in the dungeons.

After my shock-filled report to the partygoers on Friday night the word went out about Snape's little cream facial. By Monday morning the entire school knew and I was damn lucky I didn't have Potions that day. The only times I had seen Snape that day were when I was in the Great Hall and that was only because Hermione had to physically drag me inside. Snape didn't even look at me, but every so often when I would be looking away I could swear the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. He had to be glaring at me when I wasn't looking. I had even ducked into an empty classroom earlier that day to avoid bumping into him between classes like I normally did. It confused the hell out of Harry who kept walking down the hallway seemingly talking to himself.

Yep, I was definitely a goner.

I arrived at McGonagall's office at 7pm on the nose and after several deep, cleansing breaths I knocked on the door.

"Come in," she replied briskly.

I opened the door quietly and closed it behind me. I had been in McGonagall's office plenty of times by this point and knew the drill.

"So what am I doing?" I asked as I set my book bag aside, "Cleaning? Filing?"

"Neither," McGonagall said from her desk. She looked up from her pile of papers and stared down at me through her wire-rimmed spectacles. Her expression was as stern as ever—that alone made it near impossible to distinguish her mood at any given time. This time it was her voice that threw me because it didn't have the same strict tone as usual. "Professor Snape asked that you serve your detention with him tonight."

I couldn't tell if the tone was either amusement or pity and at that point I didn't care. Snape had _asked_ for me—that had to mean he had spent the weekend specifically thinking of punishment. Right at that moment all warmth seemed to leave my body and I froze to that very spot.

"Um…can I…request…another presence?" I asked in an almost half whisper.

"What do you mean, Miss Bradshaw?" McGonagall asked as she raised an eyebrow.

"Another student present? A teacher? An armed security troll?" I pleaded, "Please?"

"Bradshaw, you're being absolutely ridiculous." McGonagall huffed, setting her quill aside and pushing back her chair. "Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher and would never _ever_ harm a student. What on earth could you possibly be afraid of?"

_Um, let's see…being alone with a very irate Snape in close dungeon quarters unsupervised for an undisclosed period of time? The distinct possibility of being chopped into bits, set on fire, or boiled to be used in some sicko potion? HOW'S THAT YOU CRAZY CAT LADY!_

"Nothing, ma'am." I muttered. I stared down at the floor—well aware that I wasn't exactly living up to the Gryffindor virtue of bravery. I knew I was blowing the whole situation well out of proportion, but by then it was too late to turn down the adrenaline.

By this time McGonagall was standing in front of me—her very presence seemed to command my head and gaze to rise against my will and face her. With an eyebrow still raised she managed something of a half-smirk. "We all have consequences we must face in life, Miss Bradshaw. Pleasant and unpleasant alike—but it's what we take away afterwards that affects us. Bravery, Miss Bradshaw isn't something that one is necessarily born with. For some, it must be earned---in some cases, earned many times over."

I nodded, finally understanding. "Yes, Professor." I had to own up to one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I knew I would live through it—well, physically anyways. My pride and dignity on the other hand might take a serious ass kicking. I took a deep breath, "His office, I presume?"

"The Potions classroom," McGonagall replied, nodding towards the door. I nodded back and spun on my heel, snatching up my book bag as I went. "And, Miss Bradshaw," she called. I turned my head, as I was halfway through the door, "Try to make it through this time without any of your usual antics."

"No explosions. I got it, Professor," and with that I made my way to the dungeons.

I kept running McGonagall's words through my mind as I made my way down to the Potions classroom. It kept me from falling back into a blind fear and focusing on the fact that I would come out of this whole ordeal a better person. I was a Gryffindor—just like my mom and dad—and that hat must have seen something brave and noble in me. Of course, by the time I was actually standing in front of the Potion classroom the blind fear won anyways and I was right back to the icy-veined, half-Gryffindor I was only minutes before in McGonagall's office.

I cracked open the door partway and peered inside. The classroom was very dimly lit—less so than when I was usually there for detention and there was no sign of Snape. I wondered if it might have been some kind of ploy to make me more anxious than I already was…

"Bradshaw?" a voice droned behind me.

I screamed and toppled into the door, crashing to the floor and sending my book bag flying across the room. As I felt the freezing stones against my face I knew exactly what had sent me into frenzy—and it wasn't going to help my situation that evening.

I rolled over and pushed myself up, trying to straighten my robes and readjust my ponytail, "Good evening, Professor." I said with as much dignity as I could muster.

"Bradshaw," he snapped, "Cauldron in front. Now." He brushed by me so quickly that I tripped over myself trying to follow him.

"W-what exactly will I be doing tonight, Professor?" I asked. I had purposely worn one of my rattier robes that day in case manual labor had come up that evening. _Eh, one can never be too prepared…especially on a detention day._

Snape was in front of a large cauldron over a flame by his desk now—the desk itself was littered with papers, small bottles, and an array of different herbs, roots, and leaves. He stood over the cauldron looking at me in a way he hadn't before—_amusement._

"Tonight, Bradshaw, you will be assisting me in the making of Wolfsbane Potion." He said coolly.

"Wolfsbane!" I exclaimed. He raised an eyebrow and I cleared my throat, "Sorry, Professor, but…Wolfsbane? Isn't that one of the most difficult potions on the planet?"

"Wolfsbane Potion is an extremely complex potion that requires an enormous amount of focus, concentration, and precision to be effective. Its ingredients must be mixed in an exact order, at an exact time, at a very precise temperature, and during a specific moon phase. I'm not moving too quickly, Bradshaw?" He asked dryly. I shook my head. "Very well. Your detention, Miss Bradshaw is to correctly brew a patch of Wolfsbane Potion that is to be administered on a werewolf one month from now."

I looked at the cauldron and back to Snape. "Just tonight?" I asked. There was no way I could master the most complex potion in the world in one night. Unless…

"Every night until it is brewed successfully." Snape replied.

_Crap._

Three months of detention for a pie in the face. _God, what if I tripped him?_

"This is way beyond N.E.W.T level, Professor. What makes you think I can even come close to—" I began.

"You said you were adept at potions." Snape cut in, "Prove it."

We just stared at each other for a moment. It suddenly became clear—this wasn't about the pie. Snape was challenging me—and not like he normally challenged the Gryffindors. This was the challenge of a Potions Master. Half a year of my bickering, back talking, sneering, and cursing had for some godforsaken reason made Snape take an interest in me. He wasn't this way with his Slytherins—even with his little lap dog, Malfoy. Uncle Jack always said my mouth would get me into trouble one day. _And boy, you weren't kidding, Jack._

"We begin now." Snape snapped. With a quick flick of his wand the insane list of ingredients appeared on the board.

For the next two hours I bent over the cauldron making sure I added the right ingredients and continued to check the temperature. Snape made very little comments, but was watching me very carefully—I had to keep reminding myself to not say something about him hovering thinking it probably had to do with the possibility of me blowing myself up. When I first started I was hesitant—hovering over the cauldron with the ingredients before adding them, but the further along I got the more my confidence began to grow. Every minute I was still there was another minute I hadn't blown us to kingdom come so that had to be a good sign.

"Now it has to simmer for ten minutes before I can lower the heat and add the last part." I said—partly to myself and partly to see Snape's reaction. He nodded and I was finally able to exhale. He turned over a small hourglass on his desk as I started to arrange the bottles and scraps left on the desk.

Now that my mind wasn't focused to the boiling point anymore I was able to let it wander to the question that had been nagging me for two hours. Just who was this Wolfsbane potion for? _Lupin,_ I wondered. Harry had told me about Professor Remus Lupin and his—er—condition. Snape had made his potion before, so Harry had said, so it made sense that he would be making it now. _Oh hell, you're already in detention. What's the worst that can happen if you ask?_

"Professor, who is this potion for?" I asked.

Snape stared down at me, "Why the concern, Bradshaw?" he said.

"Not concern. Just curious. I mean, it's not exactly something you brew everyday. And it doesn't store well—it has to be fresh so this would have to be for someone to use in the near future, right?" I kept clinking the glass vials so hurriedly I thought they would shatter in my hands.

Snape, however, didn't react as biting as I expected. "Yes. This potion is to be used on a live subject."

"Professor Lupin?" I asked quietly.

Snape's gaze immediately narrowed. _Danger! Danger!_ Harry told me about Snape's feeling towards Harry's dad and his friends, but I'd forgotten until just that moment.

"Never mind, sir." I quickly said and made myself busy again.

"Not that is any of your _or_ Mr. Potter's concern," Snape said coolly, "But yes, this potion is intended for Lupin."

The knot in my chest loosened somewhat. At least I'd be able to tell Harry that Lupin was getting the potion he needed to not become a crazed werewolf again—then again the fact that _I_ was actually brewing it might not easy his worries. I glanced at the timer. _Only a minute or two._

"Mr. Lupin is very lucky," I commented.

Snape snorted and rolled his eyes. "Buttering up the professors now, Bradshaw? Believe me, I don't make this potion for my health—I do it by the request of the Headmaster and nothing more."

"Firstly," I said, the edge coming back to my voice, "I've never sucked up to teachers. Secondly, you're not brewing it. I am." I stared up at him, trying not to reflect the stupidity, fear, and aggravation I felt in my eyes. "I-I only meant that Mr. Lupin is lucky that a potion like this exists now. It would make life very difficult for him if he didn't." I turned back to the desk and kept cleaning.

Snape was quiet and didn't retaliate to me at all. Maybe he thought I was just contradicting him—then again, maybe he just though I was being my usual smart-ass self. Whatever the case, I was far to focused on what I had just said and not on—

"The Potion!" I exclaimed.

I was on the opposite side of the desk, but watched as the last few grains of sand fell through the hourglass. Snape jerked his head across the desk and saw me reach out towards the cauldron, then down at the hourglass, then back at me with a look of horror.

"DOWN!" He roared.

I hit the ground so fast the room went spinning—then I actually went spinning across the room when the cauldron exploded. The desk splintered and a large chunk of it forced me back into one of the sidewalls. The explosion was almost deafening and I covered my ears with my hands as the entire classroom shook. Various jars containing preserved creatures of all shapes and sizes shattered and I found myself covered in goo with some strange semi-dissected lizard like creature wriggling by my feet. I shrieked and jumped away as I tried to wipe the goo off my robes. Smoke billowed from the front of the room. I coughed as I fanned the smoke away from my face.

"P-professor," I choked, "Are you still there?"

There was no answer. I stumbled over part of the shattered desk and where the cauldron used to be. There was still a small flame flickering where the burner was.

"Professor?" I asked again, this time with more panic.

I stopped cold. The fear I had felt earlier now was a warming sensation compared to how I felt. My mouth went dry and I felt the urge to hurl as my hands went cold.

There, sprawled out in his entire potion-covered splendor, was Snape.

Dead to the world.

Then I hurled.


	17. And Consequences Be Damned

_**Disclaimer: **JKR...not mine. Got it?_

_**Warning:** Follow the butterflies...OF DOOM (towards the Mary Sue of DEATH)._

* * *

_**Chapter Seventeen: And Consequences Be Damned**_

I stood there for what must have been several minutes covered in goo with chunks of vomit clinging to the edge of my robes. The smoke was starting to dissipate, but nothing had changed.

I killed Snape.

"P-professor," I whispered again as I stumbled backwards. I tripped over the first row of desks and went tumbling to the floor, but I never looked away from the lifeless form sprawled across the floor. For the first time in my life my mind wasn't screaming at me to do something stupid—in fact, it wasn't saying anything at all. I crawled across the floor inch by inch, never looking away.

"Harry," I muttered, "Find…Harry…." In one quick move I had rolled over and hoisted myself back up. Forgetting my books and any other incriminating evidence I'd left in his classroom, I sprinted out of the room and made like hell for the Gryffindor common room.

That was it. I was done for. I could see the headlines now—_Student Blows Up Classroom Killing Teacher, p.1. Youngest Ever Sent To Azkaban With Life Sentence, p.3._ Interviews with teachers and students… "_I always thought she was a nutter." "Her being a Yank and all—very violent folk…"_. Maybe I could go into hiding with Sirius. Sure, Uncle Jack might be a bit put out about having a fugitive for a niece, but hey, he had a tramp for a wife!

By the time I reached the common room I'd already decided what length to cut my hair and which name to assume. Fortunately, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were still downstairs. Ron and Harry were in the middle of a game of wizard chess while Hermione was going back between reading and watching the game. All three of them looked bug-eyed at me when I stormed into the room.

"Hey, Reg you're back—" Ron started, then his jaw dropped, "Bloody hell, Reg! What happened?"

I pointed back towards the portrait, stared at the hole, then back, "Um…I…Snape. Big….boom and all. Um…" I started to trail off. My brain had officially gone on strike so I had lost all sarcasm and humor. I looked down aware that I suddenly felt damp and realized I was still covered in goo and vomit. "Oh," I said in a half stupor, "I should probably change."

By this time all three of them had me surrounded and Harry had grabbed me firmly by the shoulders. "Reggie. What. Happened?"

"Snape," I said, "Um…yeah…he's sorta…dead." I started gasping—then laughing. I was cackling hysterically when Hermione smacked me across the face.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about!" Hermione hissed. The mere fact that Hermione actually used the words "bloody hell" actually pulled me out of my little insanity moment more than the slap itself.

I shook my head to shake off the blow and recounted everything that had happened down in the Potions classroom. The four of us had made our way to a secluded corner in the common room so we couldn't be overheard. By the time I had finished, they all looked as shell-shocked as I did.

"Y-you killed Professor Snape?" Ron whispered.

"Of course she didn't!" Hermione snapped, "Nothing in Wolfsbane potion is essentially toxic. He was probably just knocked unconscious. Did you check to see if he was breathing?"

_I wonder if Sirius could teach me to become an Animagi, too. I could transform into a loveable lap cat and make my way to a good home to spend the rest of my years on the lam—_

"Reg! Focus, please!" Hermione snapped again, "Did you check to see if Snape was breathing?"

_Duh._ "Um…no. I just sorta assumed with him being on the floor and covered in potion and all."

"Well, then we should probably go check." Harry said, "I mean, if he really is just unconscious we should probably tell Madam Pomfrey, shouldn't we?"

"_We?_" Ron asked, "Wha'dya mean we? We're not all going down there, are we?"

"We can't send Reg back down there alone. Look at her!" Hermione gestured at me, but I was too busy picking off chunks from my robes and staring at patterns in the carpet.

"Yeah, Reg has gone bye-bye," Harry said, "We're all going to check on him."

With that the four of us made our way through the portrait and down towards the dungeons—Harry leading me most of the way due to the fact I kept running into walls and corners. I was in a complete state of shock—it was a good thing that the rest of them had decided to come because otherwise I'm sure I would've ended up roaming the castle for hours on end. Snape had to just be out cold—_he had to be!_ I started thinking more clearly the closer we got to the Potions classroom. Things would work out—no one could possibly convict me of intentionally murdering Snape even if he did have it coming 90 of the time.

The door was still flung open when we got there and we all skidded to a stop outside. Thin wisps of smoke were still waiving from the classroom, but there were still no sounds of life. Slowly, we all approached the doorframe and peeked through, one head on top of another.

"Yep, he's still there. Right then, we can just go tell Madam Pomfrey—"Ron blurted out and made to turn and run, but Hermione grabbed his robes and jerked him back.

"Not yet! We have to make sure he's really breathing." Hermione hissed.

"Do we have to?" I moaned.

"Glad to hear you've decided to join us!" Harry said in a perky tone.

"Oh, screw you." I muttered.

"Will you two stop it!" Hermione hissed, "Come on."

The four of us crept into room like kids trying to sneak into the family room on Christmas morning—a very sick, twisted, nightmarish Christmas morning. As we made our way up to the front of the room I could see the soles of Snape's shoes…then his pants…cloak…and blanched face.

"How can you tell if he's dead or not?" Ron whispered, "He looks like a corpse most of the time anyways."

Harry snorted next to me, but I still hadn't regained my sense of humor yet. We were all next to where his desk used to be, but no one was running forward to check for a pulse.

"Okay," Hermione sighed, "Now—Reg…you go check if he's breathing—"

"What!" I hissed.

"You blew him up! You check! I just said we'd go with you—I never said we'd be the one checking." Hermione replied.

"Yeah, you blew him up." Harry hissed.

I glared at both of them. "So this is what they mean by rat's fleeing a sinking ship?"

"No. More like rat's fleeing a stinking corpse." Harry said.

"Ha ha." I huffed, "Fine." The minute I said it the rest of them shrunk behind me. I rolled my eyes—_ah, friends to the bitter end._ Everything was moving in slow motion and every sound echoed off the now empty walls. If Snape was all right the first duty on my life-of-detention list would probably be replacing every creature on the shelves. I shuddered at the thought and turned my attention back to the floor.

"Ew. You really can't tell if he's dead or alive." I muttered.

"Just check to see if he's effin' breathing!" Ron hissed.

I waved my hand impatiently and looked back down. In all my years of accidents I'd never actually been in a situation that would require searching for a pulse. _Surprised they don't include THAT in the curriculum,_ I mused. _Okay—maybe if I just look to see if his chest is rising and falling. At least that way I wouldn't have to actually touch the slimy bastard._ I nodded to myself and bent down near the floor to see if his chest was actually moving.

"What are you doing? Check for a pulse!" Hermione said.

"You check for a pulse!" I shot back. "I'm looking to see if he's breathing."

Everyone went quiet for a few moments while my head hovered near the floor. The dim light from the torches made it difficult to see if he was moving at all.

"How's that floor feeling, Reg?" Harry asked.

"Smashing. How 'bout you join me?" I looked up and cocked an eyebrow, "I can't see if he's breathing. I'll have to check for a pulse."

Ron looked like he was going to be sick, but Hermione and Harry simply held their collective breath. I sat up straight and pressed two fingers against Snape's neck. I held my breath, hoping to Merlin that the git was still alive. _That would be like you, wouldn't it? Dying to send a student to Azkaban—the ultimate detention. You slimy—_

"I got it!" I exclaimed. I could feel the definite _thump-thump-thump_ of his black little heart. I started regaining feeling in my limbs again and the icy fear around my heart began to melt. I was saved from Azkaban—at least for the meantime. As I heard Harry and Hermione let out a sigh of relief I glanced down at Snape's face to see if anything had changed—and oh, baby did it. His eyes were wide open.

I screamed and fell backwards. Harry came running up beside me while Hermione tried to restrain Ron from bolting from the room.

"What? What is it?" Harry exclaimed. He took one look at Snape's face and fell backwards himself, crashing into a table and sending more vials crashing to the floor. While Harry was regaining composure, Ron and Hermione were making their way up to Snape.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, "Is he awake?"

"I dunno," I said, "He's got a pulse, but—but—well, look!" I pointed at his face.

The four of us hovered over him for a moment. Snape was alive, but for all intents and purposes he was still out cold. He just started up at the ceiling while his jaw hung slightly slack. Ron took out his wand from his pocked and gave Snape a small poke.

"Stop that!" I hissed, swatting his wand away, "You're gonna blow him up or something."

"Maybe he's just in shock." Hermione muttered.

"Shock!" I exclaimed, "Look at him! He looks completely stoned!"

We continued to hover for another moment. None of us had a clue. What if Snape really was in shock? Who would teach potions? What would the other students say? How would I be prosecuted in a court of law? The four of us were so wrapped up in thoughts as to what to do next that none of us had noticed him enter the room.

"Oh my," an old voice murmured behind us, "Not again."

The four of us screamed so loud I thought for sure someone had been hexed. We turned around and four wands were suddenly at the ready and pointed straight at Dumbledore's chest.

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "Is that really necessary?"

"Professor!" Hermione exclaimed letting her wand clatter to the floor. "We can explain! Reggie—"

"Traitor," I muttered under my breath as I let my wand drop to my side. Hermione glanced at me before lowering her gaze to the floor.

"Please, Professor," Harry said, "It's not Reggie's fault!"

I looked over at Ron who wasn't saying anything, but his lip was quivering a mile a minute. I sighed—they obviously weren't going to be of much use. Harry was starting to go on about how I'd been upstairs in the common room with them the whole time when Dumbledore held up a single hand.

"Thank you, Harry, for your defense of Regina—but I believe she may have something to say on the matter herself." Dumbledore looked down at me with those twinkling eyes through those half-moon spectacles and I somehow felt instantly calmer. "Miss Bradshaw, I believe you have something on your mind."

I took a deep breath. "Yes, Professor…" I launched into the story yet again—omitting the whole pie incident and just giving the facts about that evening. How I'd been mixing the potion, how I'd lost track of time, then how I'd scampered from the room a quivering mess to find my friends to drag down here and get me out of the whole mess. After telling the whole story yet another time I felt a little bit less weight on my shoulders. That still didn't change the fact that there was an unconscious, possibly comatose teacher lying at my feet.

"I see," Dumbledore finally said when I had finished, "So you were down here for a detention?"

"Yes, sir." I said.

"May I ask what for?" Dumbledore inquired.

I closed my eyes. _I knew he was going to ask that._ "I hit—er—that is, I _accidentally _hit Sn—Professor Snape with a—a pie last Friday night."

"A pie?" Dumbledore smiled, "Well, that must have been very amusing."

"Yeah, it was pretty funny." I said—then immediately slapped a hand over my mouth. "No! No! It was—not funny! Definitely. Not. Funny. Please don't expel me." I took a step forward, "Professor Dumbledore, they had nothing to do with this. It was all my fault!"

Dumbledore reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Regina, in my many years here I have seen quite an array of accidents in my time. I seem to recall our last Potions professor having a problem with a particular Upturning Potion that seemed to leave him stuck to the ceiling for nearly three weeks until we found a way to bring him down. Made lessons very interesting, I must say." He smiled at me, "I assure you, Miss Bradshaw, that Professor Snape is in no harm."

The tightness in my chest began to loosen somewhat more as I nodded. If Dumbledore was on my side there was no way I was going to Azkaban or to the street that night. His gaze shifted from me to Snape. "Now, let's see if we can bring him about, shall we?" He said.

The four of us huddled behind Dumbledore and watched intently as he bent down beside Snape. He pulled out his wand from his robes and placed the tip up against Snape's left temple then murmured, "_Enervate."_. The tip of his wand glowed slightly and quickly extinguished. Nothing happened for a moment—then there was a sharp inhale. The four of us staggered backwards for a moment while Snape sputtered back to life.

"What in the bloody hell—" Snape coughed as he sat up.

"Quite all right, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, smiling.

Snape sat up and swayed for a moment. His eyes looked slightly out of focus, but he looked like he was getting some color—well, he was at least a lesser shade of pale. He looked around for a moment before his black eyes regained focus—on me.

"Bradshaw?" His voice was edgy as his eyes began to narrow. I gulped.

"I believe Miss Bradshaw has earned some house points this evening." Dumbledore said as he helped Snape to his feet.

"WHAT!" Harry, Hermione, Ron, Snape, and I all exclaimed at the same time.

"Regina kept a very cool head about herself in a time of stress. She went and found help and attempted to determine your condition after sustaining quite a shock herself." Dumbledore explained.

Snape brushed some dust and potion remnants off his robes, all the while staring down at me. I couldn't tell if he was reminiscing on what happened or trying to figure out another punishment. I felt my heart beating frantically—like McGonagall had said, I would have to own up to my mistakes. "What happened, Bradshaw?" Snape snapped.

I winced as he spat my name out. "Y-yes, sir. A-after the explosion I went to find my friends to help because I was…well…a little rattled." His eyes continued to narrow, but I kept going. "We—er—I wanted to make sure that you were okay before we went to get Madam Pomfrey." I took a tentative step forward, "This didn't have anything to do with them. I wasn't watching the timer, Professor. The explosion was all my fault. I should be docked points, not given any."

That was the kicker. Snape's eyes went back to normal and he cocked an eyebrow. Dumbledore simply smiled and if I'd been able to turn around I would've seen three sets of jaws falling to the floor. As I mentally began playing "Taps", Dumbledore turned to Snape.

"Bravery as well…even if it wasn't intentional, Severus." Dumbledore stated, "She admits to her mistake."

"A mistake! Exactly!" Snape growled, "Foolish child! Do you realize that you could've killed both of us?"

I tightened my jaw, "The ingredients of Wolfsbane Potion aren't inherently deadly." I said, "_Sir._"

Nobody moved or spoke. I didn't feel like I deserved any house points—hell, some lip from Snape was the least I had coming to me. Yeah, I'd made a mistake, but he was the one who insisted on me making the potion in the first place.

"I think," Dumbledore said, "Ten points to Gryffindor for grace under pressure? And I believe you and Miss Bradshaw can work out another arrangement for your detention." Dumbledore turned back to the others, "Harry, Hermione, Ron…I believe you can wait for Regina back in the common room, if you wish." With that he ushered the three of them from the classroom. Harry cast a sympathetic look over his shoulder and mouthed, "I'll wait for you." I nodded. As soon as the door was shut it was just Snape and I again.

I sighed and looked up at Snape. "So?"

"So?" Snape said dryly, "Is that all you have to say? So?"

"Well, what else do you want?" I said.

"I do not appreciate your tone, Bradshaw. May I remind you of the events of the last hour, which involved you setting off an explosion in my very classroom. Destroying countless specimens and blowing apart my desk!" Snape huffed.

I clenched my fists by my sides and plowed ahead. If I was going down, I was going to make one hell of a show while I went, "Sir, I'm sorry about the desk. I'm sorry I destroyed the classroom. I'll clean it. I'll scrub the entire room by hand if need be. I'm sorry I nearly blew you up. Believe me…I'm _really_ sorry about that." I took a deep breath, "But you were the one who insisted on a fifth year tackling such a difficult potion. I'm glad you gave me an opportunity—and considering the complexity alone…I think I did rather well."

Snape raised an eyebrow, "Well? You think it went rather well?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, yes, I do. There were plenty of opportunities for me to blow the potion up before hand. The fact that a fifth year was able to make it through an extremely difficult potion with no incident until the very last step is a—is admirable."

Neither of us spoke for what seemed an eternity. I was banking on the fact that my cheekiness in the past had been the reason Snape took his—liking—to me. How many potions did Snape blow up before he became a Potions master? Well, Snape wanted a test and he got it.

"I do not agree with the decision to award house points—no matter how much _pressure_ you were put under. However—" He smiled grimly, "Tonight's little exercise does by no means excuse you from detention."

I nodded and rolled up my sleeves. "I understand, sir. I'll just go get the mop."

"Tomorrow night." Snape cut me off.

My sleeves fell back over my hands. "What?" I asked incredulously.

"Tomorrow night," Snape repeated. "I told you that your detention would be served while brewing a satisfactory batch of Wolfsbane Potion. To night obviously falls into the 'unsatisfactory' category."

My mouth fell open. How could he possibly serious? I'd nearly killed the man not a half hour ago and here he was re-scheduling an opportunity to relive this horrifying experience. _What are you—a sadist or something!_

"Do close your mouth, Bradshaw. You look like a codfish." Snape droned on. I quickly snapped my jaw shut as he continued. "I hardly expected you to make it through this potion in one night. You didn't expect to be let go if you made one simple error, did you?"

"Error?" I blurted, "I nearly killed us!"

Snape definitely smiled at that. "From your lips…" He muttered, "Tomorrow night. Same time, Bradshaw. You may go." He turned and went about muttering "_Reparo"_ around the classroom.

I stood dumbfounded for a moment. I back-talked him. I swore in front of him. I was a flat out smart-ass in class and tonight I had actually come within inches of killing the man. What the hell did I have to do to put this guy off? _Become Hermione_, my brain hissed at me. I rolled my eyes—I had a point. Only the goodie two-shoes seemed to get the rise out of Snape. I was the only non-Slytherin that had the—well, let's face it—balls to actually stand up to the bastard. Harry didn't exactly suck up to him, but he didn't blatantly back talk Snape. I, however, had no problem doing so. Call it courage, call it stupidity, or call it just plain old' being a Gryffindor—when it came to me and Snape there was no fear.

"Um…" I stared up as I watched Snape perform various Repairing Charms around the classroom, "Do you need any help with that, Professor?"

"No, I think you've done enough _helping_ for one evening." Snape said simply without turning around.

Not needing to be told twice, I walked quietly to the door. I was well down the corridor before I bolted for Gryffindor Tower.

I was panting again when I came through the portrait and sure enough the three of them were still awake and waiting. They all sprang out of their chairs near the fireplace and ran over the second I was fully inside.

"Well?"

"Wha'd he say?"

"What happened?"

I grinned and held up my hands. "People, people, please!" I sauntered over to one of the armchairs and flopped down casually. The three of them simply stood by the doorway watching me with confusion. I gestured to the other chairs, "Well, sit down."

They took seats cautiously—my manner alone probably made them think I'd either gone mad or had a Memory Charm put on me. Once I was out of the hot seat I had a tendency of becoming smug and pompous—and tonight I felt that I really had the right to be.

"Well then, Miss Regina? Do tell us." Hermione raised an eyebrow while stifling a laugh.

"Got out of detention did you?" Ron shook his head, "Only you could—"

"Oh, I've got detention." I laughed, "The psycho wants me to brew another batch of Wolfsbane tomorrow night."

Three sets of jaws dropped. "You're joking." Harry said.

"Nope." I said nonchalantly, glancing at my nails, "I'm telling you guys, all you have to do is be a smart ass and try to blow the guy up and it'll make working conditions so much better." The continued to look at me in shock and I only grinned. "Well, I think my work is done for tonight. I'll see y'all at breakfast tomorrow. Night!" And with that cheery note I headed for the staircase to the dorms.

As I started to make my way up the staircase I could hear Ron muttering behind me. "Bloody Yanks. They really do think they're invincible." I grinned like an idiot the rest of the night.


	18. Dear Uncle Jack, Part III

_**Disclaimer: **JKR...not mine. Got it?_

_**Warning:** And God smote the Mary Sue...and there was much rejoycing (yay)_

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_**Chapter Eighteen: Dear Uncle Jack (part 3)**_

_Greetings again!_

_I can't believe it's April already. Hell, I can't believe I'll be getting on a train almostthan3 months and be coming home. Well, as close to home as it gets._

_Classes are getting even more brutal, if you can believe it. O.W.Ls are coming up and for the first time in my life I think I'm actually feeling the academic squeeze. I mean, I'm **really** nervous about these exams. It seems like every waking moment I'm either in the library or the common room! Happy Birthday to me…I'll be buried so far in a textbook that my sweet 16 will fly by without so much as a party favor._

_On the plus side, I've been so busy trying to cram for these exams that I haven't been able to get into (much) trouble. I'm still dealing with detention with Professor Snape, but it's actually kinda useful for my Potions final. Yeah, he's still a pain in the arse, but at least I'm too busy being productive to be a delinquent. Transfigurations is going slightly better—I haven't set anything on fire or disfigured any animals in weeks now! Unfortunately, in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class I haven't been so successful with Patronus charms. It's hard to describe it…you need to find a happy memory to make this kind of force field. And now I sound like a Jedi Knight Peter Pan. Yay me._

_We did manage to pull ourselves out of our books a few weeks ago for Ron's birthday party. It was lots of fun. And that's all I'll say…disclosing much more will not do me any good._

_I'm sooooo looking forward to coming home for awhile…even though I'll miss school. Bet you never thought you'd hear those words coming out of my quill, huh? This old castle is really starting to feel like home. Or maybe it's just the people inside it. Or maybe it's being surrounded by nothing but magic and wizards all the time. That sounds really insensitive of me. You know how much I love you, Uncle J…it's just…you know. It's nice to be around and accepted by your own kind. Don't worry, I won't be this deep thought-prone during the summer…I'll be annoying the crap out of you in no time._

_Hope everything with you is going okay. Can't wait to see you again!_

_Love,_

_Reggie_

_P.S. I know I'm accepted by you and all…but it's a magic thing._

_P.P.S. Actually, it's more a classmate thing._

_P.P.P.S. I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about and studying for the O.W.Ls for has fried my brain._


	19. April Showers Bring Mayhem

_**Disclaimer: **JKR...not mine. Got it?_

_**Warning:** How's "The Yankee II: Revenge of the Mary Sue" sound for a title? Fitting? Or should I be burned at the stake? ;P_

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_**Chapter Nineteen: April Showers Bring Mayhem**_

Mid-April arrived wet and soggy, but I was too busy with my head buried in a book to notice. Between mounting homework and looming O.W.Ls we had time for nothing else—not so much as a midnight trip to the kitchens for a butterbeer. Nadda. Harry and Ron were so exhausted from Quidditch practice and studying that they barely had the will to complain. Hermione, however, I thought would simply crack eventually—she'd taken to muttering to herself and occasionally breaking from conversations to check random facts that had nothing to do with what was going on. I half expected to find her in the Astronomy Tower with a riffle one of these days. Even Malfoy was too stressed to bother pissing us off, which was the only ray of joy we could find.

Of course, it would be during this particularly stressful season that Aunt Sarah would choose to rear her booze-filled head.

It wasn't until around 1am the day after my birthday that I realized I'd missed it. 16 feels very much like 15, anyways, I thought. Except when you feel 116—like now as I snapped my Herbology textbook shut. I banged my head on the table and heard it echo off the walls of the common room.

"My. Brain. Hurts." I moaned as I thumped my head with each word. "Can't. Learn. Any. More."

Ron yawned and stretched, his roll of parchment curling up on the table. "Bed." He groaned. " I'm through. I can't deal with this anymore." He closed his book. "I'm leaving this here until morning." He stood up and, very slowly, shuffled his way towards the staircase to the boys' dormitory.

Hermione was still hunched over her notes and her eyes kept darting from her parchment to the open book to her left. Harry was ignoring his work completely and zoning out into the fireplace.

"Harry!" I exclaimed. He snapped back to reality. "Go to bed, man." I said.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry yawned. "We should all call it a night." He stood up and made to follow Ron. "Night guys."

I sat there watching Hermione scribbling furiously for another few minutes. The rhythmic scratching was putting me into a quasi-trance and my eyes were half closed when a tapping from the window jerked me awake. Hermione's head snapped up so quickly I heard it snap.

"What was that?" she snapped.

I leaned back in the chair and eyed Hermione cautiously. "You are _waaaay_ to high strung, Hermione." I said as I crossed the room to open the window. I found one of the tawny school owls perched on the windowsill with a letter clutched in its left talon. "Well, come on!" I prodded the owl. It released the letter and snapped my finger before flying off into the night with a disgruntled hoot.

I settled back into my chair and flipped the envelope over. I felt goose bumps rise on my arms._ Aunt Sarah._ I recognized the handwriting instantly. She'd written to me a few times this year, mostly as a way of easing her guilty conscious. Most recently, her guilt over being declared an unfit guardian and having sole custody being turned over to Uncle Jack had probably been eating away at her. I'd received the paperwork from Uncle Jack only a few weeks prior, but I hadn't shared any of it with anyone, not even Harry. Telling everyone your aunt ran off with a younger man and—in the past month—been arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct isn't exactly something you can casually discuss over the breakfast table. It didn't matter anymore. Now that we were living in England in one year I'd be a legal adult and on my way out of school.

"Who is it?" Hermione leaned over to get a better view of the handwriting. "That's your aunt, isn't it?"

I nodded. I turned the envelope back around and tore it open. Inside was perhaps the cheesiest birthday card I could've ever imagined. It had obviously been meant for a boy, judging by the cover. The only reason she had probably picked it was because it had a wand with a rabbit jumping out of a top hat exclaiming "Hope Your Birthday Is Magical!" I shuttered. To think that Aunt Sarah and I had at one point mocked cards like these.

"Reggie? Is today your birthday?" Hermoine asked, incredulously.

"Um….yeah. Actually—" I glanced at my watch, "—Yesterday. If you want to get technical."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

" To you? Because I thought the intake of one more piece of innate information would make your head explode." I said. I grinned sheepishly. "It's just a birthday. There are more important things going on."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "A birthday not important? This coming from the person who risked pieing a professor to help stage a birthday party?"

" Oh, go memorize a textbook." I muttered. I opened the card and several piece of paper fluttered out. _No, not just paper. Money. Lots of money._

"What the hell?" I exclaimed. I scooped up the pile out of my lap. "There has to be several hundred dollars—er—pounds. Whatever."

"What does the card say?" Hermione asked.

"Who cares what the card says? I'm freaking rich!" I cried. Hermione rolled her eyes and took my discarded card off the table to read aloud.

"Dear Regina, I know money can't buy happiness, but it can be a start to a life. Buy yourself a little fun. The rest is for saving. It's never too late to plan for your future and here's hoping there'll still be room for me. Love, Sarah." Hermione looked at me. "It's…sweet?"

I spread my newfound wealth in front of me and sat back. " 'Buy myself a little fun'? What does she want me to do, buy a stripper?" I rolled my eyes.

" I think she meant for you to buy a little something now and put the rest back for a rainy day, it seems."

" Yeah, but…I mean…I have a trust fund. From my parents, I mean. I get it when I turn seventeen next year. But what am I supposed to do with all this?" I spread my hands over the table.

Hermione set the card on top of the pile. "Well…do exactly as she said. Buy yourself something now and put the rest back for later. We have a Hogsmeade weekend coming up—maybe a new set of robes. Or a quill? Ooooh…there's some fascinating texts in—"

"I'm not using my humungous wad of cash to buy books, thank you very much." I said defiantly.

"Well you aren't considering buying a car, are you? I mean, it is rather pointless seeing how you could reach anywhere you wanted to by Apparation, Floo powder, or broom." Hermione noted.

"Yeah," I muttered. " I dunno. We'll see next weekend." I yawned and stacked the pile together. It was a grand total of 500 pounds, but I had no idea of how many Galleons that translated out to. It was sure to be a lot and there were some items I needed stocked up on. A new set of robes would be nice. Not to mention I could use a new quill and some more potion ingredients._ Ug. I've been hanging around Hermione too long. Screw it. Take the money and head for Vegas, baby!_ I shuffled upstairs ahead of Hermione and hid my stack carefully underneath my bed and flopped down into the pillows. My mental shopping list would have to wait until my brain could function properly.

By the next morning, news of my newfound wealth had already traveled across the tower and was circulating through the other houses.

"Happy Birthday, Reggie!"

"Congrats Reg!"

" Hey Reg! How 'bout a loan?"

" Hey Yank! Did your aunt shack up with a millionaire?"

" Hey Malfoy! Shove it!"

" I can't believe you didn't tell us it was your birthday." Harry said to me over lunch that afternoon. I'd missed breakfast that morning and had skipped to make it to Transfiguration on time. "Why didn't you say anything?"

There were only a handful of people that glazed over the fact I had inherited a pile of money overnight, but focused on the fact that I had covered up my birthday completely. Not surprising, the moment I'd sat down at the table I'd been pounced upon.

"Um, hello? We were kind of busy—you know—trying not to screw up our lives by not passing these damn tests." I said, helping myself to a ham sandwich.

"Yeah, but after all you did to help with mine. Just…you know…" Ron said.

"What? You owe me? It doesn't work that way. Look, it's not a big deal." I shrugged.

" But isn't 16 when you're old enough to drive in the States?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah."

" So does that mean you're getting your license?" Harry asked.

" No."

I could see the three of them exchanging looks. "Um…Reg?" Ron started.

I slammed my glass of pumpkin juice down. "Look, the only reason I got all that money was because Aunt Sarah was feeling guilty. It's guilt money. She doesn't want to make everything okay she just wants to try and buy my affections back. Well, it's not going to work okay?" I was beginning to pick up steam and was showing no signs of stopping. I'd been holding it in all morning. "And I don't really care about my birthday because it's just one big fat reminder of how my parents are dead!" I blinked. _Where the hell did that come from?_

"Reggie…" Hermione began.

"Forget it." I muttered. I stood up and slung my bag over my shoulder. "I'm just going to get some air before Potions, okay?" I looked over at Harry who was making to stand up. "No. Don't…I just want to be by myself for a minute." And with that I spun around and headed out the door.

I had nearly an hour before Potions began so I headed for the lake. The late April weather had thawed the grounds to the point the grass was now spread out over the grounds and the trees were finally beginning to show leaves again. I picked our usual spot under the tree next to the lake where we usually sat studying on contemplating throwing ourselves upon the mercy of the giant squid.

"Here squidy, squidy, squidy." I muttered leaning back against the tree. I cupped my face in my hands trying to wrap my fried little brain around what had just happened.

Okay, I'd been thinking about my parents quite a bit that year. This was their school for Merlin's sake! It was true that every year on my birthday I'd always been a bit down, but it was for an even deeper reason than I'd ever let my friends—even those back in New York—ever know. On my 5th birthday my mom and dad had been away on a business trip for the Ministry. Mom and dad had worked in the Department of Magical Cooperation and had been at a meeting in Paris working with several other countries on rebuilding after the first war. I'd made my parents promise they'd come home on my birthday even though there were still meetings going on. They came home for one day, but had to go back because they hadn't finished yet. If they'd only stayed through my birthday they would've gotten everything wrapped up and came home one day later…just one day later. The next day there had been an attack by rogue Death Eaters at the facility they and several others had been making plans on uniting the wizarding world again. Because I'd been a selfish little brat and demanded my parents spend my birthday with me they had to go back and catch up on work and hence be blown up.

"It's not my fault." I told myself, stubbornly. Years of therapy had finally driven that fact home to me. I know that it was Death Eaters that caused my parents' deaths, but that still didn't take away all the guilt. I stared up through the branches of the tree and up into the cloudless sky. I wondered if mom and dad could really see me. I wondered what they would say. I wondered if they'd be proud of me. I wondered if they'd ground me as much as I deserved. The bell began tolling for classes. I watched a group of Hufflepuffs trudge back from Hagrid's hut and got to my feet with a sigh. I didn't feel like rehashing my feelings with my friends.

By the time I got down to Potions the entire class was settled, but thankfully Snape wasn't in the room yet.

"Okay, Reg?" Harry asked. He looked concerned, but not overly so.

I smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Harry nodded and that was that. I breathed a sigh of relief. Things were finally getting back to normal.

Almost.

It wasn't until later that evening as a group of us Gryffindors were walking back from dinner that I realized that something was up.

"Um, wait a second, Reg." Hermione said. "I need to go to the library before we head in."

I looked back down the staircase at her. "Then go to the library quick. I'll just be in the common room."

I saw Hermione shoot Ron and Harry a look over my shoulder. "Well…I wanted to get a second opinion on something…from—Transfiguration."

_Whatever._ "What in the world would you want my opinion on something in Transfiguration?"

Hermione shifted her books to the other arm and shuffled her feet. "Well…it never hurts. This close to exams, you know. I thought we could both use…"

I rolled my eyes. "You know, you lie very poorly for a Gryffindor." I looked from Ron to Harry. "So what is going on that I can't go to the Common Room?"

Harry glanced at the floor, but it was Ron who spoke up. "Fine, nosey. It's your surprise party."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"Well, come on, Hermione! If you weren't so bad at diversions. I knew we should've left it to Harry." Ron said.

" Leave me out of this." Harry put up his hands in a sign of protest. "I kept my mouth shut."

"Good job there, Harry." I snorted. "Can I go to my party now?"

We jogged the rest of the way up to the tower. By the time we reached the portrait I could hear voices behind hissing, "Shhh! They're here!" I had to hold in the laughter. The portrait door swung open after a quick " Flitterbees" and then---

"SURPRISE!"

The evening passed in a haze of butterbeer and cauldron cakes. Fred and George brought supplies from the kitchens (and probably from a sneak run into Hogsmeade) and Dean had made a banner that now hung over the fireplace. It seemed more like a inner-house mixer than a birthday party, but that was fine by me. I was just leaning back in a chair by the fireplace when a small brown package was thumped into my lap.

"Gah! You nearly broke my legs!" I shouted, laughing.

Harry grinned. "It's from all of us. We had to express owl it this morning."

"So it cost a lot of money and you'd better like it." Ron joked. Hermione scowled and elbowed him in the ribs.

I greedily tore off the paper to reveal a single silver key on a key ring. "Wow. I always wanted one of these." I said, flatly.

"It's symbolic, more than anything." Hermione said. "We didn't really have it owled. Your presents are being owled, though."

"That's really sweet, but you guys didn't have to---"

"Buy you anything." They all finished for me. "Yeah, yeah." Ron said, "But wait until you see what the key goes to."

I looked up at Harry. "What? Is this the key to Slytherin? Do we get to trash their dungeon?"

"Don't you think we would've done that long ago if it was? You're just going to have to wait to see what it's for." Harry replied.

"Until when?" I asked.

"Until everyone is asleep." Ron replied. Hermione had become silent and had a look on her face like she highly disapproved of whatever the boys were planning. I was instantly intrigued.


End file.
